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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28447701">Collaboration</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzureTiger/pseuds/AzureTiger'>AzureTiger</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Extraction [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Thundershield - Freeform, thor is the best boyfriend</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 22:07:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>80,265</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28447701</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzureTiger/pseuds/AzureTiger</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Things are going pretty well since the fall of SHIELD, but of course that can't last with remnants of HYDRA still lingering. An old threat rears its head, determined to get revenge.</p><p>Steve doesn't quit, and Thor will take care of him no matter what.</p><p>(can be read on its own)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Steve Rogers/Thor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Extraction [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2061795</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Well hello! Some of you were interested in a sequel to Dissolution, and I had an idea, so we'll see where this goes! It will probs still make sense on its own, but I do recommend you read the previous story for full context!</p><p>Otherwise, be prepared for some fighting, some sexy, and of course two blondes being good boyfriends.</p><p>I look forward to your feedback as always! It really does keep me going &lt;33 thank you!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s only four in the evening, and already the sky is nearly completely black. No matter – a dark sky is far more romantic. And for a bonus, the air is clear and crisp, letting the stars shine through. Even though it’s much colder with no clouds to hold in the heat, that only makes it better cuddling weather.</p><p>Cuddles later. Thor smooths out the nicest shirt he owns, adjusting the collar and buttoning the cuffs. He inspects himself in the bathroom mirror and stands up straight, turning his head from side to side. Should he pull back his hair, or leave it as it is...? Thor hums to himself as he tucks in his shirt and thinks about it. He has half a mind not to bother, given that everything will be coming off at the end of the evening, and he doesn’t want disrobing to take longer than it has to, but he wants to look nice as well. He knows Steve won’t care, but this is supposed to be special. </p><p>Thor does up his belt and gives his hair one last brush before he decides to pull some of it back from his face, but leave the rest loose. That’s how Steve likes it, down around his shoulders. It’s so long now, longer than he kept it before he joined SHIELD. </p><p>Three-and-a-half years it’s been, since SHIELD collapsed, and a mere one year less since Fury rebuilt it in secret, and came to recruit them that day on their patch of paradise on the Australian coast-line. The break was nice, but ultimately, neither of them could have stayed there forever, with no purpose. So just half a year later, they moved to Canada, and have been here ever since. For two years, Steve’s been working in an unmarked office building, five days a week and sometimes overtime, helping Fury track down the last traces of HYDRA and other groups SHIELD usually deals with alongside Tony and a few other trusted friends. And Thor has been on-call for consultant work when Fury needs to dispatch his agents. Thor can’t say he never misses field work, but he’s happy where he is, and is reminded of his luck each time Steve walks in through the front door of their apartment. </p><p>What if they could do this forever, the two of them? Thor slips a dark blue jacket over his shirt and inspects himself. It’s very strange to wear such formal clothing, so crisp and cut. But there’s no way he could take Steve out for a nice night out in his usual t-shirt and short (jeans, in this weather). Three years isn’t that long, but Thor can’t imagine life without Steve. They make a good team. </p><p>Thor gives himself one last look in the mirror before walking out of the bathroom and into the sitting room, where he sits on the sofa with a sigh. Steve won’t be home for another two hours, but already Thor is starting to feel butterflies in his gut. All he needs is a ring, but he hasn’t got one. Not yet anyway. Despite being so far from prepared to ask That Question, the fluttery panic he feels deep in his chest seeps into ordinary dates. </p><p>It’s crossed his mind before, but only as a passing thought – would Steve want that, to stay with him forever? It seemed far too soon back then, when Thor first contemplated it, an idea to be tabled for later. Except now, ‘later’ is here, and the thought of it scares him. He’s not sure why. Why should he be, when he and Steve have been together for years now? Seen each other through the good and the bad? They’ve seen the worst of each other, or damn near close, so why worry?  </p><p>It seems so foolish. Thor rests his cheek on his palm and pulls out his phone, scrolling through his contacts. Steve is right at the top, of course, his photo immediately putting a smile on Thor’s lips, while simultaneously sending a bolt of panic down his spine. Words catch in his throat even though he has none to say, even though he’s alone with his imagination. Thor opens the photo and stares at Steve’s smiling face – that was a good day, the day they bought an apartment in the middle of Toronto. They’d gone for a walk, sun shining brightly off the snow. Steve looks the same now as he did then, radiant and cheerful despite the horrors he’s survived. His strength is unmatched. </p><p>Thor pretends the photo is real and licks his lips. “Steve...” he murmurs. It comes out rough and hesitant, so he clears his throat and tries again, straightening his back. “Steve. Marry me?” Too informal. He shakes his head and slumps back down, churning words around in his mouth. <em> Why must you make this so difficult? </em> Thor wonders if he should call it off, give himself another year to plan it out and gather his courage.  </p><p>Why should it be hard? Thor chews on his bottom lip and looks into Steve’s sparkling eyes. “Steven, baby.” It wasn’t hard to speak the other night when they were all over each other, when Steve was on his back begging for more and Thor was teasing, praising... <em> Why am I so worried? I haven’t even bought a ring yet. </em> And there’s another conundrum to worry about... Steve is not a man of decoration, doesn’t care about price tags. The ring should be special, though. No need for diamonds or expensive gold plating, but it should be... nice. Engraved, maybe. Steve would prefer a meaningful engraving to pricey gemstones. It’s not his style, anyway. Thor groans and throws his phone on the cushion beside him, flopping back and rubbing his face. All of this, assuming Steve says yes... </p><p>Thor lets his hands fall away and stares at the ceiling. “This is your fault...” he sighs. Maybe he should write it down, save himself the risk that words won’t come out when he needs them to, or even in the right order. Nobody has ever rendered his grasp of English unreliable but Steve. “I love you so much...” He has done for a while now. Maybe he should have done this earlier. </p><p>Unable to sit still, Thor hops up and goes to make some tea to settle his nerves and give his hands something to do. His mother would know, if she were alive. She would know what to say, how to make it special, romantic. A moment to remember. That’s what Thor wants, to make something good and memorable. Steve deserves it, after everything he’s been through. He’s had his life totally flipped upside-down just because he wanted to make a difference in the world, because his heart is too big for his body. There’s no other person Thor would be happy to be a housewife for. </p><p>That’s what Loki calls him, a housewife. Thor smiles as the kettle boils. Loki would know what to do. His younger brother would have advice, certainly. Romance may not be Loki’s specialist department, but he is wise and perceptive. Thor brings his tea to the sofa and picks up his phone, dialing his brother. </p><p>“Thor.” Loki picks up the way he always does, swiftly and inviting the explanation. Wherever in the world Loki may be, he always picks up before the second ring. </p><p>Despite knowing his brother’s preference for efficient conversation, Thor struggles to put his thoughts into words. Maybe he should have written this down, or gone over it in his head a few times before calling, but it’s too late now. “I...” he starts. “I need...” </p><p>“Are you alright?” Loki asks blandly. </p><p>“No,” Thor moans, knowing his brother is smart enough to judge what sort of predicament this is by Thor’s tone of voice alone. “I need your help, badly.” </p><p>Loki softens a little. “Okay. Sit down.” </p><p>“I am sitting.” </p><p>“Then tell me what’s wrong.” </p><p>“It’s Steve...” Thor groans, slumping backward. “I need... I want...” Loki patiently waits in silence for his brother to gather his thoughts. “I want to... I...” </p><p>“What are you trying to ask me.” </p><p>“For advice?” </p><p>“You haven’t told me what the problem is yet.” Loki prompts dryly. “Shall I guess?” </p><p>“N-no,” Thor flushes. “Sorry... I’m just...” </p><p>“Struggling,” Loki finishes. “And if this is with regards to Steve, then I can assume you wish to ask for his hand. Am I correct?” </p><p>“Yeah...” Thor resigns, swallowing bashfully. He’d have thought it would be easier to talk about this with anyone other than Steve, but apparently that isn’t the case at all. </p><p>“You’re going to ask him today?” </p><p>“N-no!” Thor flushes with panic at the very thought. “No, I’m not ready. I don’t even have a ring. And I don’t know what to say, or even if I should, or-” </p><p>“Thor.” Loki cuts him off sternly. “Are you planning on doing it in the next few days?” </p><p>“I-I think so,” Thor agrees quietly. </p><p>“But you don’t have a ring.” </p><p>“Not yet.” It would have been smart to get one while Steve was at work, but now that he’s on Christmas leave, it will be harder to buy one in secret. </p><p>“Do you know where you want to ask him?” </p><p>Thor shakes his head before remembering Loki can’t hear that. “No,” he whispers. “I don’t know how any of it is going to work...” </p><p>“One thing at a time,” Loki calmly orders. “Forget the ring for now. Think about where you might like to ask him. We can talk about this more when I get there for Christmas.” </p><p>“Okay,” Thor breathes. “Okay, thank you.” </p><p>“Of course,” Loki replies. “Don’t overthink it, alright?” </p><p>“Alright,” Thor takes a deep breath and exhales through his nose. </p><p>“Good. See you later.” </p><p>They hang up, and Thor takes a long sip of tea. One way or another, he’ll make this work. For now though, he decides not to think about his proposal at all and just enjoy the date he’s planned. There’s still a whole hour to kill, so he resists the urge to do push-ups and lies down on the sofa to play phone games instead. </p><p>His mind wanders as he taps through an electronic game of Solitaire. What if he waited until Summer to propose, took Steve to the warm lake and proposed to him in the water? He could swim down and pretend to find the ring in the sand... Or should he get it over with and give the ring as a Christmas gift? Though Loki told him not to worry about the ring just yet... What about Steve, what would he find meaningful? What if Thor just keeps the ring on him, and when the moment feels right, he goes for it? That could be anywhere, out for a walk in the park on a weekend, or a morning jog before work. </p><p>Eventually, he’s so nervous he has to put down his phone and go to the bathroom. He’s just finished zipping up his pants when a key slides into the lock. Thor lunges for the sink and washes his hands. </p><p>“I’m home!” Steve announces, shutting the door behind him. </p><p>“Wait there!” Thor cries back, frantically drying his hands before stuffing his shirt into his pants. </p><p>“Thor?” Steve calls, his socked feet padding across the landing and down the hall toward the bathroom. “What’s going on? Are you okay?” </p><p>Thor quickly smooths out his shirt and jacket, checking his hair in the mirror. When he turns to the door, Steve is pushing it open. Thor nervously fiddles with a button. “Uh, hi.” </p><p>“Hey there handsome,” Steve smiles, admiring him from top to bottom as he loosens his scarf and coat. “Going somewhere?” </p><p>“Uh, no,” Thor stammers. “I mean, yes. With you. If you aren’t too tired...” </p><p>Steve tips his head with confusion. “Not at all. I’ve been sat on my ass all day... I’d love to get out.” </p><p>“Oh, that’s good.” Thor straightens out. “Because that was my plan. It’s a lovely evening.” </p><p>“It’s really nice out there,” Steve agrees, sliding closer and flipping down the collar of Thor’s shirt. He smooths out the lapels of the jacket. “You look good.” </p><p>Thor blushes faintly with pride and holds still and straight so Steve can fix him up. His blush deepens with embarrassment as Steve reaches around to tuck the shirt in at the back. </p><p>“There,” Steve smooths the jacket back over top and grasps Thor gently by the waist, drawing himself closer. He reaches up on his tippy-toes, but Thor manages to catch on soon enough to bend down a little and meet him halfway for the kiss. </p><p>It starts soft and gentle for a moment or two, before Thor decides to take control as he promised himself he would. He wants to sweep Steve off his feet after a long day of work, and start their Christmas break off right. So he clutches Steve more tightly and slides his tongue in. Not too much, because that will be for later, but enough to promise more. </p><p>They draw apart, and Steve smiles with raised eyebrows. “You have my attention. What should I wear?” </p><p>“You look fine,” Thor smiles back. “Whatever you like.” </p><p>“I can’t let you show me up. You went to the effort. Give me a minute and I’ll clean up.” Steve shrugs out of his jacket, and Thor takes it from him while his boyfriend loosens his plain work shirt and goes to the sink. </p><p>“Take your time,” Thor stands out of the way, admiring Steve’s soft curves while the other man takes off his shirt and washes his face. Steve has put on a lot of muscle since they first met, particularly in the arms and shoulders. All the more body to love. Bottom or top, Steve is a powerhouse in bed. For a moment Thor considers cancelling his reservations and suggesting they skip straight to the sex. </p><p>It’ll be better after a hot meal and some quiet time first. Steve deserves the effort, and Thor doesn’t want to miss a detail. </p><p>Steve changes his shirt for a fresh one, choosing dark blue, and his grey dress jacket. He appears in the landing looking perfect and eager, his hair freshly combed though it didn’t need it. “So. Where we going?” </p><p>“You’ll see when we get there,” Thor holds up Steve’s coat so his boyfriend can slip back into it. “I thought we could walk, but I can call a taxi if you prefer.” </p><p>“A walk sounds nice,” Steve replies, wrapping his scarf back around his neck while Thor puts on his own coat, and some shoes. The streets aren’t too icy, so they don’t have to worry about needing proper winter boots. Thor locks up, leading Steve into the elevator, then into the winter night. </p><p>Steve’s right: it <em> is </em> a gorgeous evening, not too cold to be uncomfortable, and without any wind. Thor wraps his hand around Steve’s and they walk off down the well-lit street. It took a while to get used to living in the city after so many years in relative seclusion, but Steve helped him adjust, spent a week or two exploring and learning how to use public transport with him. It was nerve-wracking for both of them to begin with, re-integrating with society, but it helps that Steve lived most of his life in the city. Not to mention, he adjusts well to new circumstances. Thor too, and he can do anything with Steve at his side anyway. The change was difficult for their PTSD at first, but fortunately it’s no worse for either of them than it was in Australia. Thor is happier than he’s been in a long time, and Steve has verbally confirmed the same. </p><p>The city comes alive at night, lighting up the darkness with vibrant colors. The streets are full of people out for the evening, filing into restaurants and bars, or to the park for a walk while the weather is pleasant. </p><p>“How was work?” Thor asks. They can’t talk about specifics in public, but Steve can give the general basics. One of the first things Steve did when he took the job was a whole course on what he needed to know now that he worked for a secret agency. A secret agency that technically shouldn’t exist anymore, to boot. He files his taxes under a different name, and his on-paper job title is a security developer for a big bank.  </p><p>“Work was good,” Steve replies. “Nice to get some fresh air though.” </p><p>“How are the others?” </p><p>“Good,” Steve nods. “Excited for the Christmas party.” </p><p>“Is your mother coming?” </p><p>“I called her today,” Steve agrees cheerfully. “She’s looking forward to it. What about your brother?” </p><p>“I called him too,” Thor replies. “He’s coming.” </p><p>“It’s been a while.” Steve swings their arms a little. “Where is he now?” </p><p>Thor shrugs. “No clue,” he chuckles. “He has property all over the world.” </p><p>“When are you closing down the company?” </p><p>“In the new year,” Thor explains. “We just have to get all the paperwork together. It’s very complicated.” </p><p>“Can I help?” Steve asks. </p><p>“I may need your assistance with some of the forms,” Thor admits. There will be a lot of boxes to fill in, lots of things to read and sign. It’s going to be taxing. Steve is much better at diligently reading paperwork. </p><p>“Sure thing,” Steve beams, bumping their shoulders together. “What about you? Did you have a good day?” </p><p>“Very,” Thor agrees. It was quiet, like most of his days, but good. Even though he’s in good shape, his body just can’t sustain what it used to, so it’s less difficult than he expected being less active. Gratefulness that he survived plays into that, too. And it’s not like he’s without purpose. Thor leans over for a quick kiss on Steve’s temple. “It’s even better now.” </p><p>“Hey!” Steve laughs. “You’re terrible.” </p><p>“I’m sorry my attempts at romance fall short,” Thor grins. “But you render me rather unable to think clearly.” </p><p>“Aw, stop it,” Steve blushes. “Most romance any guy’s ever treated me to.” </p><p>And this is the only guy Thor’s ever felt like... <em> this </em> around, so everything is even. Proudly, Thor leads Steve around the final corner and down the street to the restaurant.  </p><p>A midday trip to Denny’s for a coffee and a burger on Steve’s lunch break isn’t uncommon, but Thor’s booked somewhere nicer. They ascend in the elevator to the top floor, and a waiter checks their reservation before guiding them to their table. All the while, Steve looks around with wide eyes. It’s a nice place, nicer than anywhere they’ve been together. Atmosphere is important, and this is just what Thor hoped for: the unobtrusive yet up-beat music will mask other conversations from the well-spaced tables, and the golden lighting is minimal, aided by the bright city lights outside the panoramic windows. At this height, the city shines from below, and the sky twinkles above. The reservation is for a table close to the windows, where the lights can properly shine in Steve’s eyes, and Thor can gaze at the way the chandelier reflects off the smooth lines of Steve’s face. </p><p>“Wow...” Steve takes off his fogged glasses so he can see properly, admiring the view as he sits. </p><p>“You like it?” Thor takes off his coat and takes Steve’s glasses so his boyfriend can take off his own. He gives the glasses a rub on a napkin. </p><p>“This is really nice.” Steve adjusts his chair and rubs the table cloth. He takes back his cleaned glasses with a grateful smile and inspects Thor curiously. “What’s all this for? An anniversary I forgot about?” </p><p>“No,” Thor laughs, almost letting slip a joke about how much he’s been struggling to come up with a proposal. <em> This would be a good place to propose, a good time, but </em> <em> unfortunately </em> <em> I haven’t planned well enough for that. I am hopeless, aren’t I? </em> “I just wanted to spend some time with you before the others arrive. Must I have a reason?” </p><p>“No, just curious,” Steve leans on his hand and makes no effort to conceal that he’s flat-out enjoying the chest area of Thor’s suit. </p><p>“The view is out there,” Thor points. </p><p>“Not from where I’m sitting.” Steve grins. “You really went all-out.” </p><p>Thor opens his mouth, but promptly shuts it when he notices the waiter arriving with two menus and some water. He nods his thanks and waits for the man to leave before replying. “I intend to continue once we’re home,” he says, opening his menu. </p><p>“And I look forward to it.” </p><p>“Then I recommend the steak,” Thor continues casually, sipping his water. “So that you have the energy.” </p><p>Steve is already pink, so Thor decides not to tease him further lest his boyfriend erupts. And they <em> are </em> in public, in a rather posh restaurant. If they flirt too hard, it will be difficult to finish their meal. </p><p>In the end, they both decide on wild salmon and rice with a garden salad on the side, paired with crisp white wine and cheerful conversation. Steve looks particularly handsome in his suit, laughing at Thor’s stories of childhood, then returning with his own. For every tale Thor can tell of the trouble he and Loki used to get into, Steve has one of his own with Bucky included. Mostly fights with larger kids on the playground, and even a few into his teenaged years. There seems to be no end to the stories of Steve getting into fights too big for him. Thor can imagine it, his imagination aided by the photographs Sarah has shown him of her son in those days, lanky and small, but full of fury and determination, ready to stick up for anybody who needed it. Thor won’t ever forget the day Steve held a gun to Rollins’ head to protect him. Some of his memories are hazy around that final confrontation in the old London SHIELD branch, but not that one.  </p><p>They share a generous portion of chocolate cake with raspberry sauce and cream for dessert, with Bailey’s-enhanced coffee. Steve slides his chair around the table so they can sit shoulder-to-shoulder and watch the night with hot drinks in-hand. </p><p>Thor pays the bill when it comes, and they put on their coats to walk home. The air is sharper than it was a few hours ago, so they turn into each other and hurry home. By the time they’re walking through the front door, their food has comfortably settled for what’s soon to come. </p><p>Steve sighs contentedly and hangs up his jacket. He falls into Thor’s grasp with a contented smile. “That was really good,” he murmurs. “Thanks.” </p><p>“I’m glad you had a good time,” Thor beams, pleased with himself. He gives Steve’s lips a kiss, then draws away so he can grasp his boyfriend’s cold-swollen cheeks in his palms. “We should get warm. If you aren’t too tired, of course.” </p><p>“I think I could stay awake a little longer,” Steve starts on the buttons of Thor’s shirt. </p><p>“Because we can call it short if you must.” Thor starts to back across the landing and into the sitting room, helping Steve get undressed in return. </p><p>“I’ll manage for your sake.” Steve throws his shirt and jacket on the floor as they pass from the hallway into the bedroom. </p><p>“Just for me?” Thor smiles, doing the same. He leans back against the bed for balance as he takes off his pants. </p><p>“Maybe a little bit for me,” Steve is already naked, rolling onto the bed on his back. “Did you have anything in mind?” </p><p>“The usual,” Thor crawls over him and wraps him up in a tight hug, enjoying for just a moment the sensation of their naked bodies pressed flush together. “Go with the flow and see what happens.” </p><p>“You know exactly what you want to do, don’t you.” </p><p>“What I want is what you want,” Thor lifts up so Steve can see his grin. </p><p>“And you know that I’m pretty much up for anything, and I’ll enjoy it so long as you enjoy it too,” Steve rolls his eyes playfully and reaches up to loosen Thor’s hair. He runs his fingers through it, rubs them into Thor’s beards and holds his face. “I’m all yours. Don’t wanna ruin your plans.” His eyes are full of trust as they always are. </p><p>Anticipation, too. Thor plucks the glasses off Steve’s face and takes out the hearing aid, leaving them on the bedside table. “If you insist.” </p><p>“Very much so.” </p><p>“In that case,” Thor pulls out some supplies from the drawer and takes Steve by the wrists one at a time, cuffing him to the bedposts with the padded leather cuffs that have been a useful companion for a while now. </p><p>Steve patiently allows himself to be cuffed, flexing his fists and giving a gentle experimental tug as he always does. A soft pink of readiness is already rising through his body, from tip to toes to cheeks. “Does that mean this is the show, then?” </p><p>“Of some variety,” Thor agrees, slinging his leg over Steve’s hips and straddling him possessively. There shall be no work on Steve’s part, unless asked for when Thor commands. Steve works hard, and it’s time for him to rest and be looked after. Besides, Steve looks quite pleased where he is, already aroused. Thor hastily lubes up his hands and reaches down to work him the rest of the way, as well as himself.  </p><p>Neither of them needs much build-up to be prepared. Thor is very soon ready to push his way in. He leans over as he does, pushing up on his knees with Steve’s legs up around his head. Steve strains his cuffs and rocks his hips, pink and flustered. He quickly lost the faint tan he’d managed after a year on the beach, fading straight back to lily white. His skin is so soft, and Thor likes the way Steve glows red from top to bottom when he’s aroused. </p><p>Thor thrusts forward hard enough that the bed creaks, holding Steve in place so he doesn’t accidentally ram his boyfriend’s head into the headboard. Steve arches his back and pulls Thor against him with his legs, eager for more. </p><p>“Oh god!” Steve shouts, doing his best to restrain himself. The walls are thick, but this isn’t the middle of nowhere anymore, where they could scream as loud as they wanted. </p><p>“If you aren’t careful, I may need to do something about these,” Thor teases, taking Steve by the ankles and wrapping his boyfriend’s legs around his waist. </p><p>“Like what?” Steve scoffs between pants. “How would you fuck me properly if you tie those down?” </p><p>It would make it more difficult if Steve were to be completely restrained, and Thor does quite like the pressure around his ribs. Steve has lovely legs, long and shaped with lengthy muscles. He likes the way they squeeze him when Steve seizes with pleasure. Thor shrugs. “I never said what I would do.” </p><p>Steve opens his mouth, but his response is cut short by Thor’s cheeky thrust, this one stronger than the last. Steve can’t talk back if he’s orgasming. Triumphant, Thor gives Steve no chance to catch his breath, resuming the pressure. </p><p>After several exhilarating rounds, when both of them are satisfied, Thor slides off and takes up his duty of undoing the cuffs and cleaning up. When everything is taken care of and he slides into bed, Steve rolls straight into his arms and into his chest. </p><p>“That was really great,” Steve sighs, nuzzling closer and falling still with a contented sigh. “Thank you. I had a really good time.” He turns up his head for one last kiss. </p><p>Thor obliges happily, then he draws Steve’s head under his chin and holds him. “I’m glad.” </p><p>Steve falls asleep quickly, his mouth hanging slightly open, and his relaxed expression holding memories of pleasure. Thor indulges in a few moments just to watch his boyfriend sleep, rubbing his thumb along the scar on Steve’s arm. It’s been long enough that the mark has somewhat faded, though it’s still easy to spot. Thor’s own scars from that same incident have healed better than anticipated, too; there’s a lingering soreness in various spots across his body that flare up if he’s strained them or the weather changes, but otherwise he can go about his life. His need for painkillers is rare. And even bad days aren’t that bad, because he’s got Steve to take care of him. </p><p><em> Would you take care of me forever? </em> Thor moves his hand and strokes Steve’s hair slowly as he starts to fall asleep too. <em> Because I would take care of </em> you <em> forever... </em> Steve certainly seems content with how things are going. Marriage would be more of a formality, not bringing about any changes to their lifestyle. Would Steve want that, though? Even if nothing would change about their routine, getting married would change the context of their relationship, give it a new flavor. It’s an appetizing flavor to Thor, but what about Steve? </p><p><em> You’re hopeless... </em> Thor shuts his eyes and gives Steve one last squeeze before committing to sleep. Once Loki gets here, he’ll have someone to help him.</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It feels good to have Steve all to himself, with no work to draw them apart. This time of the year is his favorite, when mornings can last as long as they want and the days are spent together.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neither of them likes to sleep in very late, but they indulge themselves this morning. Steve is always drowsy at the end of a work week, particularly after an intensive round of sex. By the time he’s stirring, Thor is already fully awake, head propped on his fist to watch in the dim morning light of winter.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Watcha</span>
  <span> lookin’ at?” Steve groans as he rubs his eyes and rolls onto his side to return the look.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My handsome guy.” Thor wraps his hand around Steve’s head and leans in for a quick kiss. “Stay here. I’ll get breakfast.” He starts to back his way out of bed.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What if I want to come?” Steve reaches out and traps Thor’s hand.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What if I want to make you breakfast in bed?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe I don’t want to lie here and wait for you all on my own,” Steve argues. “Bed’s not as warm without you.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You make a good case,” Thor caves, pulling Steve out from under the covers and standing. “Very well. I’ll allow it.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll make you pancakes.” Steve wraps his arms around Thor’s neck and reaches up for another kiss. “But you have to flip them for me.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>That sounds excellent. They throw on some clothes and go to the kitchen to make breakfast in their pajamas. Thor turns on the radio and makes coffee while Steve spoons batter into a hot pan. When they’re cooked on one side, Steve turns the handle around and steps back to watch as Thor flips them with a flick of his wrist. Steve’s more than capable of the task, but he enjoys watching Thor make a show of it. Between pancake flips, Thor chops fruit and prepares the table.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ma’s going to make the turkey again this year,” Steve says when they sit down for breakfast. “And Tony said he’d take care of drinks. Buck’s bringing pie.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to try that cake again,” Thor offers. His mother’s favorite Norwegian cake recipe hadn’t turned out so well a few months ago when he made it for their anniversary. Loki managed to find Frigga’s old recipe books among her things, and gave them to him as a birthday present. The cake will be a good surprise for his brother, if it turns out well. Thor is confident he knows what went wrong last time.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Being the main meal-maker in the household since Steve started work has honed a skill Thor never knew he had. One of his biggest fears was being useless while Steve went out to work, but those fears were quickly doused. They don’t need money to survive, what with Thor’s back-up of funds from his days in the field plus Steve’s ample salary, but it’s nice to be able to provide in some way to their livelihood.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll make roasted vegetables, then,” Steve says, writing down some ingredients on a piece of paper. Christmas is still a week away, but it’s better to be prepared.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>After breakfast, they clean up in the bathroom and get ready for the day. Steve sets up the Christmas tree in the corner and Thor makes the bed while they listen to the morning news. Thor likes to keep tabs on what’s going on in the city, just in case. He may have adjusted to a cozy, domestic life as well as anyone could have, but there comes some peace from staying up to date with current events in their area.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>When everything is taken care of that needs to be, they pack up and drive into the city for a work-out. They rent a portion of the gym for themselves on weekends for sparring practice, not wanting to draw attention to themselves while Thor continues to teach Steve how to fight, as they have since they started this ritual. Despite his old injuries, Thor has managed to put all of his lost weight back on. There are certainly things he’s not able to do anymore, or at least not with the vigor he once could, but if he’s careful he can do most of it. Which means he can teach Steve more involved take-downs and attacks.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve takes off his glasses and hearing-aid, awaiting instruction in his jogging pants and t-shirt. They warm up together before Thor starts his weekly lesson. Currently, he’s teaching Steve a new kick that requires all the strength and balance that his boyfriend has spent years building up. They’ve worked it into new routines, and Steve has started using it when they mock fight. Steve knows how to throw his weight behind his attacks while remaining light on his feet, and he’s a quick thinker. He would have made a good agent with formal training, but Thor is grateful that neither of them is in the field.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They begin with a series of routines used to strengthen limbs for blocking blows and work those movements into muscle memory. It should take no thought to block a punch or a kick, and Steve’s arms and legs need to be strong enough to take the blows. His body needs to be flexible enough not to strain when he fights, and these routines maintain that. It’s more of a dance than a fight, both of them having long memorized their movements. Thor has already taught Steve all the patterns he knows.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve is excellent as always, and when they finish, both of them are sweaty and weary. Come the end of their allotted time, they pack up and drive home for stretching and showers. Thor’s shoulder requires extra care, a series of prescribed exercises a staple of their routine. Steve helps, providing the resistance necessary. The curve of improvement is definitely much shallower than it was in the beginning, but it’s certainly not stopped getting better. Not yet, anyway, which is already far more improvement than Thor expected.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor showers first while Steve stretches, then goes to make lunch. Full, and dressed in clean clothes, they leave the house again for groceries and other supplies. By the time the day’s errands are run, they agree to get take-out for dinner.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s been a good day, as good as he expected their break to be. They cuddle up on the sofa together to eat pizza and watch whatever is on. The nature channel is a favorite, guaranteed not to show anything with gunshots and other loud noises that might remind them of a time neither of them wants to spend too long thinking about. The odd action film is alright, so long as it isn’t too tense – otherwise, Steve gets nightmares. Bad ones that leave him shaken late into the day. Sometimes the nightmares flare up without prompting, but a gritty, violent movie is a guaranteed cause.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor too. His training helps, but there’s no denying that there are things he would rather not remember. If he never has to come in contact with a gun again, he’ll die happy. He’s damn lucky his last encounter with one didn’t kill him, or damage him worse than it did. And if he’d died, where would he be? Certainly not here, with Steve under his arm, leaning against him. He wraps his arm around Steve’s shoulders to hold him close, lulled to sleep by the calming narration about jungle birds, and Steve’s solid warmth against his ribs.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly he’s jolting awake.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The lights and the TV have been shut off and the whole apartment is dark. Thor’s head shoots up with shock, and he stares into the shadows as he waits for his heart rate to settle so he can listen to his surroundings properly.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everything is quiet, apart from the lingering screams he can still hear in his head. The screaming, the yelling, the shooting... Thor winces and settles back, looking down to see what stopped him from fully levering sitting. Steve is sprawled over his chest, head pillowed on Thor’s shoulder, a blanket wrapped around both of them. Steve must have adjusted them while Thor was asleep, because they’re laid out lengthwise on the sofa.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a sigh, Thor relaxes his body and wipes a couple of tears from his eyes, resting his hand on top of Steve’s head to reaffirm that both of them are safe. He tries to catch his breath, stroking Steve’s soft hair for comfort.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm?” Steve groans and shifts his position sleepily. “Wassup?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothin’," Thor murmurs softly. “Go back to sleep.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve lifts his head and rubs his eyes in the darkness. “You okay? </span>
  <span>Breathin</span>
  <span>’ funny...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just a dream.” There’s no use lying. “But it’s alright.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve folds his arms across Thor’s chest and rests his chin on them, peering concernedly into Thor’s eyes. “What happened?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes he dreams of trauma his body barely survived, or of the events that nearly killed both of them. Other times, he dreams of events that have not come to pass, and that he hopes never will, a hell of his mind’s own making. Thor sighs. “It was all gone,” he admits. “All of it. You, this... everything.” Steve doesn’t need to know the details of what was done to him in that dream.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A pair of soft lips touch his forehead. “</span>
  <span>Well</span>
  <span> I’m here,” Steve replies calmly, his long fingers threading through Thor’s hair. “Are you comfortable?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Thor smiles, tucking the blankets back around them and wrapping his arms around Steve. “I’m okay, I promise. Are you?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh huh,” Steve echoes, resting his head back down and settling. “You’d tell me if you weren’t?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Always,” Thor agrees without hesitation. “I love you.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you too,” Steve kisses Thor’s shoulder.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re safe. Thor shuts his eyes and concentrates on Steve’s body pressing into his, on his boyfriend’s relaxed breathing. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The week is well-spent relaxing and steadily preparing for Christmas. Nobody has far to come, what with Fury managing to employ Steve’s whole family. It was a lifestyle change for them, but just like Steve, they managed. And Fury keeps them safe. It certainly helped quell Steve’s worries about their safety, that Fury has his eye on them.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor doesn’t mind sharing Steve now and then; Bucky and Tony quickly became good friends, and Sarah is one of the most wonderful people he’s ever met, a mother of all her boys. Even Loki seems not to mind her, often making his way beside her at the dinner table or in the sitting room. It’s good to see that the changes have benefitted his brother, too.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>One of the </span>
  <span>key</span>
  <span> features the apartment needed to have was the capacity to fit the whole family for the holidays. That it does, with plenty of room for games if they move the sofa back. Steve turns on the lights and puts on some music, and together they make sure everything is ready. Around midday, Sarah arrives first with a grocery bag of ingredients, and another full of presents.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor swoops in to take the bags from her so she can hug her son unencumbered. Steve has to duck down a long way so she can kiss his cheek.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It looks great around here,” she remarks, admiring the decorations as Steve leads her in.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We bought new lights,” Steve agrees.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sarah walks into the kitchen to where Thor is putting her ingredients into the fridge. “Thank you, dear.” He bends down so she can kiss him too. “You look well.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am,” Thor agrees, filling the kettle and boiling it for drinks while Sarah washes up and finds her way around their kitchen as she has at past Christmases. He’s looked mostly the same for a couple of years now, but Sarah always remarks on it, and he appreciates how much she cares about him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They talk about life and work while Sarah prepares the turkey. As she slides it into the oven and cleans up, Steve counts out cards. They all sit down to play a round of Gin Rummy while they wait for the others.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony and Bucky arrive together, with drinks and a pie to be cooked later. More remarks are exchanged at how well everyone looks. Bucky slides his uncooked pie into the fridge for later, and Tony covers the counter-top in an assortment of bottles, alcoholic and not. Immediately he sets to mixing drinks and passing them around. The apartment fills with laughter and the smell of cooking turkey, and Tony plugs in the game console he brought. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Amidst a heated duel of some Super Mario game between Steve and Bucky, the doorbell rings. Thor carefully leaves Steve’s side and hops neatly over the back of the couch so as not to disturb the game. Loki is at the door, looking the same as he always does – crisply-dressed and mildly-disinterested. Thor does receive a small smile, however, as his younger brother walks into the apartment.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The moment Loki has hung up his coat and taken off his shoes, Thor eagerly hoists him into a tight hug, reveling in the wheeze of protest.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, merry Christmas,” Loki notes, smoothing out his black turtleneck once he’s set down and looking around at the occupants of the room. There’s a bag in his hand, the contents discretely wrapped in brown paper. His eyes linger on Steve, who is still deeply engaged in his battle. The brothers </span>
  <span>make</span>
  <span> eye contact.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Right...</span>
  </em>
  <span> It’s hardly as if Thor’s forgotten about his dilemma, given that it’s rarely </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> on his mind, but the reminder of Loki’s promise still makes his heart leap. “Here...” Thor suggests, leading his way quietly through the apartment and down the hall to the bedroom. Loki follows, shutting the door behind them.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I brought you this,” Loki sets the bag on the bed and takes out the package. “It took some time to find, but it will help.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Curiously, Thor unwraps the parcel to find a little wooden box. He opens the lid, and inside is his mother’s wedding ring. It’s clearly been polished, rendering it almost brand new. The Nordic engravings set in gold into the steel band look just how he remembers them, only shinier. He looks up at his brother with tears in his eyes. “I can’t... I can’t take this.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why not?” Loki says evenly. “It’s not mine.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Loki...” Thor swallows and looks at the ring rested perfectly in the velvet base. “You... Are you sure?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t have given it to you if I weren’t.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor looks back at Loki to find his brother staring at him evenly, chin lifted. There will be no changing Loki’s mind. “Thank you,” Thor whispers, closing the box. Before his brother can reply, he pulls him into a hug.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Loki pats him on the shoulder. “Perhaps we can discuss your plan later, after the party,” he wisely suggests. “And I would quite like a drink.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” Thor draws away and wipes his eyes dry, beaming at his brother. “Tony will make you one. Come, there are biscuits. And Steve promised me he would find the chance to beat you at Smash Bros.” He slips the ring into the back of the sock drawer, the side he always draws from. It will be safe there for now.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He can try,” Loki remarks, opening the door and leading the way back into the sitting room. Masterfully, he manages to make their return so natural that no-body throws them any suspicion. Thor slides back into place beside Steve, and Loki joins the group on the sidelines with a drink in his hand.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Feeling impossibly up-beat and giddy, barely a few sips into his drink, Thor sits back to enjoy Christmas with his family. To his delight, Loki accepts Steve’s challenge and takes up a controller, giving the game his all. It’s a close match, but Loki ultimately wins, celebrating by going to pour himself another drink with a pleased smirk on his face.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me get you something to drown your sorrows, Steve-o” Tony says, plucking Steve’s empty glass away and walking off to refill it.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Come supper time, Sarah takes her turkey out of the over, joined by various side dishes that she and Steve have prepared. They cover the kitchen table with food, and everyone brings a generously-filled plate back into the sitting room so they can sit in a big circle and play more games. Sometime in the evening, they decide it’s time for dessert, so everyone pitches in to clean the dinner left-overs and Bucky puts his pie in the oven. While it bakes, they gather around the tree to pass out presents.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve’s gifts are practical and thoughtful as always, while Steve himself is not less difficult to buy for. He never wants anything, and when he needs something, Thor rarely waits until Christmas to buy it. But then, Thor isn’t an easy person to buy for either, seeing as his needs are pretty much always met. What could he possibly want that he doesn’t already have? It’s just an excuse to give presents.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>With plenty more hours left in the evening, they go back to games and take freshly-baked pie with them. Thor brings out the cake he took particular care of making, and they eat that as well. It turned out exceptionally well. Praises are given all round, and Thor particularly enjoys the soft, quiet smile on Loki’s </span>
  <span>face</span>
  <span> as he eats a slice of cake.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Christmas has been a highlight of Thor’s year since he joined this family, and tonight is no different. Everyone leaves full of drink and good food, filing out with whatever they brought. Being one of the more sober of the group, Thor makes sure that everyone has a ride home and reminds them to text when they get home. There are hugs given all round.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even Loki offers a hug, leaning in close while Steve is busy talking with his mother. “Call me,” he says. “We’ll talk later.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor nods. “Thank you, Loki.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Loki waves his hand and brushes off the gratitude. He waves goodbye to Steve and strides off down the hallway. Sarah isn’t far behind, offering to help clean up the rest of the dishes, but Thor shakes his head and won’t hear it. He walks her downstairs to the lobby and sees her safely into the taxi.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he returns upstairs, Steve is rinsing plates and loading them into the dishwasher, tired but happy. Thor slides up beside him to help, and together they quietly clean up what’s left of the celebration. Their guests haven’t left them much to worry about, only a few left-overs to put into containers, and a couple of surfaces to wipe down. Not too much to handle before bed. They slump off to bed together when everything is done with, leaving the dishwasher to work on the most recent load. The moment they lay down under the covers, both of them are asleep.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fury wants me to come in a day early,” Steve says a few days later, the last Friday of his work break. He passes his phone across the breakfast table. “That work for you?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you’re alright with it,” Thor agrees, only glancing at the message. “What did he need?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He didn’t really say,” Steve admits, examining the text again while he chews another mouthful of toast. “Something about tracking down one of the last HYDRA hide-outs, and he wants some help checking the network around the area. Probably so they can pin-point the location more accurately.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sounds important,” Thor notes, admiring Steve’s bright eyes that show a snapshot of the brilliant mind behind them.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Steve agrees, sending off a confirmation text.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>As much as Thor would rather spend that day with Steve, it does mean he can meet up with Loki a day early. He sends his brother a text the moment he gets a chance. Knowing his brother will help dampens some of his nervousness about the proposal, though not all of it.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It should be </span>
  <span>simple,</span>
  <span> he knows that deep down. It shouldn’t be so hard to think of the right way to do this... but he only gets one shot at it. What if he ruins it? What if it isn’t perfect?</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Soon it’s Sunday morning, and Steve is getting up early to prepare for work. Thor rises with him to make breakfast and ensure that a lunch for the day is packed. When Steve emerges from the shower, dressed for work, breakfast is laid out on the table. It’s too early for a run, because Steve has to catch a much earlier bus to arrive at work on time on a Sunday. So early that the sky is still pitch black when Thor walks Steve down to the bus stop with his lunch and a thermos of coffee in-hand.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good luck,” Thor says, leaning down for a kiss as the bus turns the corner. “Text me if you’re late. I’ll have dinner ready when you get in.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Steve smiles, kissing back. “Thanks. See you later.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have a good day.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You too,” Steve replies, climbing onto the bus. They wave each other goodbye, and Thor turns away to walk back inside.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now that Steve is gone, he can fret un-scrutinized. Thor shuts the door and goes straight to his room to dig the ring out of the sock drawer. Despite his fear around creating the perfect proposal, it’s taken a lot of self-restraint not to get the ring out at every interval since Loki gave it to him. The temptation to drop to his knees at every second he’s around </span>
  <span>Steve</span>
  <span> is unbearable.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>In two hours, he’s due to meet Loki at the coffee shop down the road. Time couldn’t move any slower. Thor paces, trying to keep busy with any tasks he can find while he stares at the ring where he left it visible on the kitchen table. Halfway through making the bed, he decides it best to put the ring away just in case he forgets to before Steve gets home. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That would ruin it, wouldn’t it...</span>
  </em>
  <span> Thor tucks the ring back in the sock drawer.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor does some light exercise on the floor until the final half-hour, which he uses to clean up. Then, he dresses and walks out into the daylight. A walk and some fresh air help clear his head.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Loki is waiting for him at a booth already, stirring his black coffee. He inspects his brother with a single sweeping glance. “I wondered if you would arrive on time. You look awful.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor takes off his jacket and sits, blushing faintly as he looks down at himself to hide it. “What’s wrong with me?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You look frazzled,” Loki says calmly, sipping his coffee. “Take a few deep breaths, and relax. This is going to be a disaster if you panic.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor does his best to unwind his body, breathing in and out under his brother’s watchful eye.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Better,” Loki determines. “No wonder you need me. You’re hopeless.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yes, he supposes he is. Thor chuckles. “Please help me, brother.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They talk for hours over coffee and muffins. Loki may not be the most romantic person Thor’s ever met, but he is rational and relaxed, which is just the approach Thor needs to help unwind his jumble of thoughts and worries. He brings the inspiration, the ideas, and Loki helps work through them, turning fantasies into executable plans.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unwilling to wait for warmer weather, Thor discards all ideas that require the summertime. Simple is best, they both agree. Nothing too public where others can see, nothing that makes a show of the event. It should be intimate and special. Steve would like that. Right now, Thor is veering toward a late-night walk to a quiet section of the park where the lights are bright. He knows a good spot to get down to one knee.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, they come to a point where nothing more can be discussed. “Good luck,” Loki says as they stand up to leave around lunch time. He offers an encouraging smile. “I’m proud of you. You will let me know how it goes?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” Thor replies. “I’ll tell you in person at the ceremony.” They do up their coats and step onto the street.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I expect a quicker update than that.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shall I have Steve call you to tell you his answer?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I expect to be the first to hear the news,” Loki agrees.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor smiles and pauses at the point where they must go their separate ways, Thor back home and Loki to his hotel room. “Loki? Thank you, again. For everything.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is what brothers are for,” Loki replies. “I’m always here.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As am I,” Thor agrees readily. “I’m proud of you, too.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Loki adjusts his coat and tries not to show how pleased he is. “Yes, well. You can expect a call soon about the company. I’m leaving in the next couple of days to close down the last office. Then all the paperwork will be collected. I will send you what you need to sign and fill in.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good luck,” Thor bids, and they part ways.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Things feels better now that he has a solid plan in his head. Loki has eased his worries. All Thor needs is a free evening where the weather is mild. The rest of the day is filled with fantasies of what the ceremony will look like. The beach house in Australia would make a fine location for a wedding... Would Steve mind if he wore shorts? With a smile that won’t leave his lips, Thor tends to his brief list of chores for the day.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>One of those tasks includes preparing dinner. Thor hums to himself while he preps the ingredients for a pot of soup. Come five-thirty, he turns on the stove to cook it.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The carrots are reaching the perfect texture when six-pm arrives. Thor checks his phone to make sure Steve hasn’t texted, but he has no notifications. Either Steve is so engrossed in his work that he forgot to let Thor know he’ll be late, or he should be through the door any minute. Thor turns down the temperature and sets the softer vegetables aside for the time being. He sits on the sofa with his phone beside him and turns on the television to wait.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Every add break has him checking his phone just in case, but still no texts from Steve. Steve’s come home late a few times, sometimes even forgot to text, so this isn’t a first. But it’s just as nerve-wracking as it was before, and Thor finds himself unable to focus on his show. He sends Steve a text at six-thirty, and when he gets no reply by seven, he shuts off the TV and dials.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The phone rings, and rings, and rings, but it goes straight to voice-mail. Thor hangs up and goes to nervously stir his soup as he tries again. Maybe Steve walked away from his phone for a moment, went to the bathroom or shut it off out of politeness for a meeting. This task sounded important, so maybe Fury needed Steve to help de-brief the agents right away. Thor shuts off the stove completely and leans on the counter as he dials a third time. Again, nothing.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s probably stupid to be nervous. Any minute now, Steve will pick up, text back, or walk through the front door. He’s probably just busy, or already on the bus home with his phone in his pocket. Steve’s extremely good at updating Thor on changes to his schedule, but he’s only human. People get caught up in things, get distracted. Thor taps his foot as he takes his phone away from his ear and scrolls down to Fury’s number. He deliberates for a long time over whether or not to call his boss - if Steve really is in a de-brief, then so is Fury, and the director wouldn’t appreciate a call from a worried boyfriend when Steve is clearly busy.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s fine,” Thor tells himself, shaking his head. He’ll try Steve one more time first, and wait ten minutes. If Steve doesn’t get back to him or arrive home in the next ten minutes, he’ll call Fury. “He’s probably fine.” He dials Steve for the fourth time and listens with increasing anxiety to the ringing. Once again, he goes to voicemail and hangs up, his gut twisting further. A pang in his spine and a hammering in his chest tell him something isn’t right.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>His instincts have always been good. Fuck the ten minutes – Thor calls Fury and puts the phone to his ear. Wouldn’t it be better to feel slightly embarrassed for being overprotective but know for certain where Steve is, rather than sit here and worry?</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello?” Fury sounds a mixture of concerned and perplexed.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where’s Steve?” he blurts straight away.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thor, it’s Sunday night. If he’s not with you, then I can’t help you.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You asked him to work today.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>No</span>
  <span> I didn’t.” Fury’s tone of voice loses the traces of annoyance in favor of </span>
  <span>pure</span>
  <span> concern.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Thor’s own heartbeat doubles. It doesn’t feel real, but fortunately some part of him, the well-trained part, remembers to keep functioning, to keep speaking and giving information as clearly as possible. “He received a text this morning from you, asking him to come in to work a day early.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t send him anything,” Fury replies. “When did you last </span>
  <span>hear</span>
  <span> from him?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This morning, when he left,” Thor grips his hair, leaning on the counter to support. “I walked him to the bus stop, I saw him get on, I...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What time?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That was five am.” Fuck, five am... Steve probably never made it to work if he’s not there now. And for fourteen hours, Thor’s been here. People can travel a long way in fourteen hours. </span>
  <em>
    <span>They have a fourteen-hour head start, and I have no leads. Oh god, he could be dead for all I know-</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Thor.” Fury’s calm voice breaks through. “I’m going to the office to look for him.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It could be a mistake. A prank. Could Tony have gotten Fury’s phone or hacked it somehow and asked Steve to leave for work early? That seems mean for Tony, but it’s possible. Thor abandons his soup and jogs into the bedroom. “I’ll follow his bus route. Call me if you find anything.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will. You too.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Thor agrees. “Until then, can you make sure his family is safe?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll take care of it,” Fury promises. “Be careful.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You too.” Thor hangs up and undresses as fast as he can. He needs to get a grip, or he’s going to cause an accident if he gets behind the wheel like this. Thor breathes as evenly as he can. Worst-case, Steve </span>
  <em>
    <span>needs</span>
  </em>
  <span> him to be calm. Well, the worst-case is that Steve is long-dead, but that’s not an option he wants to entertain. He opens his dresser and digs in the back for an old bag that hasn’t been touched in a long time.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not long enough, in his opinion, but something is telling him that just in case, he should put on those pants with the knee-pads and wear his protective vest. No harm in that. Thor unfolds his old tactical gear, and with only a second’s pause, straps on his weapons. It’s been so long since he’s handled a weapon of any sort, other than a kitchen knife, but the feeling of a gun in his grip as he slides it into the holster reminds him that if anything </span>
  <em>
    <span>has</span>
  </em>
  <span> happened, he’s the best man there is.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>If somebody has Steve, they’re going to pay. Nothing will get in his way. It didn’t the first time, when Steve was just another stranger he was hired to protect. There’s more than money at stake here.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>And if someone has Steve, they might know that. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Deep breaths,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he commands himself as he does up his coat over his weapons. A glance in the mirror shows him that he can pass well enough as a civilian, instead of a retired mercenary in a winter jacket. None of his weapons are visible. The scars on his face and determination in his eyes don’t help much, but at this hour he’s unlikely to run into anyone on his way down to the parkade anyway.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>If he storms into this without thinking, he could get both himself and Steve killed. Thor shuts off the lights and looks back into the apartment to make sure he has everything, and that he remembered to turn the stove off. It would be a disaster if Steve was on his way home, and the building caught fire while Thor was out. He huffs to himself at the thought, wishing that were the worst case on the list of possible scenarios.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>One last thing. For some reason, Thor is drawn back to the bedroom. Hurriedly, he stuffs the ring in his pocket and seals it safely away, comforted by its presence. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Everything’s going to be alright,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he tells himself as he locks up and jogs down to the car. He climbs into the driver’s seat and sends off one last text to Steve, to call him when he gets it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Let this all be some </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>misunderstanding</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>. Just please god be okay.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Uh-oh time begins.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This is not the first time Steve has found himself in a dark room, tied to a chair, but it is the first time he’s woken up in this position, with no memory of his journey here. That’s partly why it feels like a dream, because of the lingering fuzziness in his head. </p><p>By no means is this the first time he’s ever dreamed of this exact predicament, and the panic he feels is just as real as his previous nightmares. Steve gathers enough coordination to give his body a tug, trying to find out where his limbs are, and where he’s restrained – wrists tied at the back, ankles bound to the chair legs. The ropes are too tight wriggle free. </p><p>Any minute now, Thor will rouse him, or Steve will wake up first to find his boyfriend in bed beside him. Steve opens his mouth and coughs, the taste of drugs lingering in the back of his throat. </p><p>Somebody grabs a chunk of hair and yanks his head upright so another man in front of him can shine a light in his face and inspect him. The light is too bright and Steve’s vision is too blurry for him to make out who that man is. His tongue feels swollen, and his mouth is too dry to speak. His glasses are gone too. </p><p>“That’s him,” the man in front says, lowering the flashlight once he’s taken a photo. “Make the call.” </p><p>“Yes, sir.” The hand releases his hair, and a pair of feet walk off. Unable to support the weight of his own head, Steve lets it flop forward again. The second pair of feet walk out, leaving the room empty and dark. The door closes and locks. </p><p>Steve tries to shake his head to loosen the hold of the drugs, but it only worsens the dizziness, and brings a headache to his attention. Nausea rises up his throat, so he holds still until the wave passes. If this isn’t a dream, then it must be real, and if this is real... </p><p><em> We were supposed to be safe. </em> Steve gives his wrists another tug, struggling as hard as he can so he can’t feel how badly he’s starting to shake. It’s the drugs, surely... Whatever they gave him is potent. How long has he been here? How long ago was he yanked off the street mere minutes after stepping off the bus, thick arms dragging him into a dark street and a needle jamming into his neck? All of it had been too fast for him to struggle or cry out. </p><p>If this is real, then he’s not going to wake up in bed with Thor beside him. What Steve wouldn’t give to open his eyes and be in Thor’s arms... </p><p>Thor is out there somewhere. When will he figure out Steve isn’t coming home? In time, Steve hopes, blinking and squinting in an attempt to get a better look at the room. To his relief, there is no tray of torture tools, but that doesn’t mean he’s safe from bodily harm. <em> Thor will find me. </em> Thor found him the first time. Nothing will stop Thor, but Steve hopes he hasn’t been taken out of the country. </p><p>Despite the confirmations that this is not a dream, Steve can still hardly believe it’s real. It feels too much like a nightmare to accept. Then again, if sitting here in a daze keeps the panic at bay, surely that’s better. </p><p>It feels a lot more real when a man returns, throwing open the door just behind Steve’s ear and turning on the lights. Steve winces and squints against the dim but blinding light, eyes unable to properly adjust with the drugs still in his system. </p><p>“You’re very valuable,” the man says, standing in front of the chair. Steve struggles to focus on the boots in front of him. Frustrated, the man grabs Steve by the forelock and lifts his head, slapping him. The blow startles some alertness into him, and he stares upward. “Better,” the man smirks. “Now I’m going to text your boyfriend, and let him know where you are.” He holds up Steve’s phone like a trophy. </p><p>“Go ahead,” Steve finds his voice. <em> That’ll be your mistake. </em> Let them summon the man who will harm them the most. The man who will be the most driven and able to rescue Steve. </p><p>“You will be long gone by the time he arrives,” the man explains, typing out a message. “Better to keep the two of you apart, we thought. But rest assured that we won’t be kind to him if you cause us trouble. They want you for your skill, but they only want him for revenge.” </p><p>Steve has a bad feeling about who ‘they’ probably is. He watches the text being sent and hopes Thor will know that it’s not Steve sending it, or that he’ll at the very least prepare for a trap. <em> Or even better, get here before they ship me out. </em>  </p><p>“Your ride will be here in a few hours, so sit tight until then,” the man elaborates, sliding Steve’s phone into his pocket. “Be good.” </p><p>Steve doesn’t want to imagine what may be in store for him if he isn’t. He holds still and quiet until the man is gone again, the light turned back off. Relieved, he lets out his breath and a whimper. The darkness is better on his eyes, at least, and nobody has bothered to gag him. That can only mean that there isn’t anyone close enough to hear him call for help. Steve rubs his boot on the floor and the texture feels like wood. </p><p>Why do these rooms always have to be so cold? And his jacket is gone... Steve does his best to fold up, shivering in his ropes. Twisting his hands reveals that he can’t find enough purchase on the knots to undo them, and he’ll only hurt himself if he tries to slip free. The rough fibers are already chaffing his wrists. He needs to do <em> something... </em> before it’s too late. Before he gets sent who-knows-where for HYDRA to do who-knows-what to him. Before Thor walks into a trap and is taken as well. Even if Thor arrives and resists capture, how will he know where to look for Steve? Steve knows for certain that Thor will find him no matter what, but time is very much in question. This is no time to sit around and wait for rescue. </p><p><em> Think, Rogers. </em> Steve winces at the stiffness in his neck, turning his head as slowly as he can to look around the room. From his brief glance in the light, he remembers it being baren. Just him, and this chair. Steve holds still and listens for sounds of anyone nearby. For all he knows, he could be in the bowels of a prison compound teeming with guards. This probably isn’t a prison compound given the wooden structure of this room, but the teeming-with-guards part could still hold. Despite holding significant value not to be too badly harmed, Steve gets the feeling that these men will hurt him if he gives them a reason to.  </p><p>Steve remembers very clearly when HYDRA caught him the second time, and the dilemma swirling inside his head as he tried to decide whether to wait for an opportunity to present itself, or to make that opportunity happen and risk harm. There is no such dilemma now – Steve has already reasoned out his choice. <em> First thing, stay calm. </em> Panic will be his downfall. He can hear Thor’s voice in his head, reassuring him that everything will be alright. <em> Assess the situation, </em> Thor would say. Steve breathes deeply and evenly, looking down at his boots. These ropes will be impossible to loosen, but maybe he can loosen the chair instead. Steve plants his feet and rocks from side to side just enough to tell that the chair isn’t held to the floor in any way, and the chair itself is made of wood. The front left leg is wobbly. </p><p>There’s no use waiting. Steve listens one last time to make sure he can’t hear anyone nearby before tipping himself sideways with as much force as he can. The thud isn’t as loud as expected, but his shoulder is going to be bruised. Though the force wasn’t nearly enough to break the chair, the legs are no longer upright, which means he can wiggle his left foot back and forth unrestricted. Back and forth, as hard as he can, until the leg finally slides out of the hole. Steve shakes it from the ropes and uses his leg to roll onto his other side. With a few kicks and some more wiggling, he manages to loosen the other chair leg and free his other ankle. </p><p>Steve pushes himself forward with his feet, sliding the back of the chair from under his bound wrists. When they’re free, he tucks his legs in as tightly as he can and loops his arms under them. It strains his shoulders and pulls on his wrists, but he manages just barely to bring his hands in front of himself. </p><p>There’s no way he’s untying that knot, even now that he can see it. It will have to be cut. Never mind, he can still run. Steve pulls the ropes off his ankles and pushes himself over to the wall so he can use it for support as he stands, still suffering from dizziness. The rush of nausea and blood to his head nearly brings him down again, but it passes. <em> Things could be worse... </em> He can stand up, walk, isn’t hurt that he can tell, other than a few bruises indicative of his rough handling. <em> I’ve faced worse odd. </em> Steve sets his jaw and walks over to the door, wincing as his joints protest. How long has he been in that chair, aside from the few hours he’s spent in it awake? Many more, he imagines. </p><p>As the blood returns to his toes, he tries the door handle as quietly as he can. Locked, or course, but this isn’t a facility made for holding people. It’s just a room. Steve presses his ear to the door, knowing that if there’s someone positioned outside, that he may very well get shot the moment he steps out. <em> Nothing I can do about that... </em> If there were a window, he would climb out that way, but there isn’t. And fortunately, the space outside sounds empty. Since nobody has come running at the noise he’s already made, it’s safe to assume he’s alone. Steve backs up and angles himself shoulder-first, ramming his full weight into the door. </p><p>It’s enough to break the lock, and the door flies open. Steve stumbles, squinting in the light of the hallway as he looks left and right. Without his glasses it’s impossible to make out details, but no people are in sight. Somebody shouts to his left, though, so he runs right. </p><p>Knife, he needs a knife. And his phone. Steve turns the corner and keeps running, looking for any signs of the exit, or the supplies he needs. </p><p>It looks like a cabin, and a big one. There are any rooms, a few old paintings hung crooked, and some shelves covered in dust. Out the dirty windows is a snow storm. Steve can barely make out tall mountains beyond. It looks to him like an abandoned ski lodge. Large as it may be, there will only be so many places to hide, and if he’s not careful, he could easily find himself cornered. </p><p>No guns are going off yet, even though he can hear several pairs of feet pursuing him. Not daring to look back, Steve keeps running, fighting the panic that once against threatens his stability. Now is the worst time for a panic attack. Steve skids around the next corner and slips straight around a door slightly ajar, and into a dark room. He shuts it as quietly as he can and tucks himself against the wall to wait. Pounding footsteps aren’t far behind, but far enough behind that they haven’t seen him hide. The men carry on, and Steve waits for them to turn the next corner before moving. </p><p>There isn’t anything of use in this room, just an old guest bed that has seen better days, and some empty shelves. No knife, no phone. Steve cracks open the door a fraction and peers around it. Determining it’s safe, he slips around and hurries the way he came. </p><p>This was planned, therefore some of these rooms must be stocked with supplies, and occupied by the men. Steve holds his wrists to his chest as he walks, watching for danger as well as he can. At the very least, his hearing-aid is still in place and functioning. His head feels much clearer now that he’s up and moving. </p><p>Room after room he checks, hiding in one if someone passes by. Finally he comes by some stairs and climbs up to the second floor. There are a lot more people moving around here, so Steve wedges himself into a closet to wait until the group of armed men moves on. </p><p>“Watch the exits,” the leader orders the others, and his voice sounds like the one who was speaking with Steve earlier. “And you two go down to the road. We need to catch him before the driver gets here. But be careful. If they dock the reward because you hurt him too badly, it’s coming out of your portion.” </p><p>There are replies of agreement, and the five men split up. Two walk down the steps to guard the door, and two set off with the leader to help the others patrol. Steve holds his breath in the closet and doesn’t move until the area is clear. He slips out and pads into the next section of guest rooms. Just his luck, the second door leads into the kitchen. Steve creeps through the shadows and grabs a knife small enough to manipulate from the block. Then he sits on the floor behind the island and braces his arms on his knees, carefully slicing his wrists free. Much better. Steve rubs his wrists and flexes his fingers, taking the blade with him just in case. It might not be good for much in his inexperienced hands, but it’s better than nothing. </p><p>Triumphant, Steve sucks in a breath and leaves the kitchen, glancing left and right to decide his next trajectory. The longer he spends here, the greater chance there is of being caught. He slips out and hurries toward the next room along. </p><p>Another door down opens, and the man he recognizes emerges. Immediately, he spots Steve standing there. It’s too late. Steve’s foot shifts backward on its own. <em> Fuck. </em> He raises his blade. </p><p><em> In the event of a fight, run if you can. Run as fast and as far as you can, and do not stop. </em>That was some of the first advice Thor gave him, made him promise he wouldn’t fight unless necessary. So Steve whirls on his heel and runs. </p><p>Of course the man follows, shouting. Steve runs down the steps as fast as he can without tripping, hopping down the last few. He breaks into a sprint, catching his shoulder on the corner as he takes it too sharply and nearly toppling himself, but stumbling and carrying on. </p><p>“Come back here or I’ll shoot!” the man shouts after him. </p><p><em> Do not stop. </em> Steve makes a hasty decision between left and right, branching right and away from the other guards who are turning toward the commotion. </p><p>“Circle round!” the man orders his men. “Watch the exits!” </p><p>There’s no escape. He’s trapped in this box. Steve trips over a table and falls with a crash, bringing the table and the decorative vase down with him. He rolls and covers his head with one arm, tightening his grip on the knife with the other hand and pushing back with his legs as the man approaches. Winded but unhurt, Steve grabs the toppled table and hurls it at his pursuer. It’s small enough to be flung, and it catches the man in the stomach. </p><p>“You’ll pay for that,” he growls as his target tries to get his feet under him. Steve picks up a chunk of vase and throws that too. It’s enough that he can untangle himself and get to his feet.  </p><p>A hand grabs him by the back of his shirt and pulls him back, throwing him to the ground. This man is almost as large as Steve himself, and easily as strong, off-balancing him enough that Steve falls straight back down. </p><p>“I warned you to behave,” the man draws a blade from his belt and turns it in his hand. “Just because you’re worth something doesn’t mean you can get away with pulling shit like this. Drop the knife, put your hands on your head, and I’ll spare the bloodshed.” </p><p>It’s a generous offer, but HYDRA won’t show him the same. Steve rolls to his feet and brandishes his blade. The man laughs at him and attacks with the knife of his own. </p><p>Thor hasn’t taught him many knife moves, but Steve has learned enough to block arm-to-arm and keep the knife from touching his skin. This is so different from training with Thor in the gym or on the beach, knives aside. <em> Your life might depend on it, so head in the game, Rogers. </em> Three years of combat training with a skilled mercenary haven’t been for nothing. Steve hops away from a slash and stays on the balls of his feet, never staying still for a moment. </p><p>The man stabs at Steve’s leg, and Steve quickly bats his forearm into the fist. He punches with his other arm, almost landing a face hit. It only grazes, and the man flips the blade in his hand, slashing sideway. Steve draws his leg back to avoid being cut, but he’s not fast enough to block or dodge the fist that drives into his gut. Off-balanced and winded, he falls backward, dropping his knife. </p><p>Jumping on the opportunity, the man stomps downward, but Steve manages to pull his leg away in time, grabbing hold of the wall to help him stand up. His hand connects with a decorative metal wall fixture, which he rips off and swings at the knife-wielding hand stabbing once more for his legs.  </p><p>The man shouts in pain and rage, dropping his knife, but not slowing down for his second attack. Steve has swung his arm too wide to correct in time to protect his exposed flank, and a strong kick connects with his ribs. It slams him against the wall, followed by a punch to the head that fills his vision with flashing colors. Without the shelf for support, he would be floored once more. </p><p>The man kicks Steve’s fallen knife into his hand and swipes out. Somehow, muscle memory kicks in and Steve blocks with his forearm. He turns at the hips as he has done so many times and kicks as hard as he can. It’s not his most coordinated kick, nor his most powerful, but it pushes his attacker away enough to protect him from another punch. Angry, but many times more skilled, the man kicks Steve in the ankle and wraps his arm under Steve’s. He pulls up and slashes a cut across Steve’s chest. </p><p>Adrenaline doesn’t allow him to feel the sting. Steve manages to lift his leg fast enough to bounce his knee into his attacker’s wrist, once again blocking a stab to the thigh. Desperate, he throws his weight behind a punch of his own, and it collides with his opponent’s jaw. It hurts his bare hand a great deal more than he expected, but it hurts his enemy more. Steve capitalizes on his chance and grabs the man by the wrist, twisting it sharply enough that the knife clatters to the ground. </p><p>Steve pushes off the wall and starts to run, but a foot hooks around his ankle, while a hand grabs his shirt and yanks him back. They both fall in a heap, and Steve quickly finds himself on his back, one arm twisted behind him, and an enemy arm wrapped around his neck. Steve struggles like a flipped turtle, bucking his hips to no avail. Thor taught him how to get out of positions like this... It takes a moment for those lessons to kick in. He only has a few seconds. Steve flails backward in search of the face, and jams his fingers into the man’s eye. The grip loosens enough for Steve to wriggle free, and he’s on his feet before his opponent can rise, grabbing a painting off the wall. With a hard swing, he brings the frame down and into the man’s head, felling him with a clang. </p><p>Wheezing, Steve tosses the painting aside and fumbles in the man’s pockets. To his relief, his phone is there. Without thinking too much about it, Steve draws the man’s gun before setting off at a limping jog. The first contact that pops up on the phone is Thor, and he dials immediately. Thank fuck the signal is good enough to get through, up here in this storm. </p><p>At the sound of the click, Steve doesn’t wait. “Thor, it’s me,” he pants. “I need your help.” </p><p>“Steve,” Thor breathes with audible relief. “I got your text. Where are you? Are you alright?” </p><p>“That wasn’t me,” Steve explains, making his way back the way he came while he looks for a way out other than the front door. The first floor is basically off limits. Somebody will come up to check on the fight soon... “Where are you?” </p><p>“Driving to the old ski resort. I just left the highway.” </p><p>“I’m pretty sure that’s where I am,” Steve replies, peering down the steps. He can hear people talking, can see shadows moving, so he quickly heads back the other way once more. There aren’t many options. “You need to be careful. There are lots of guys here. I’m going to try to meet you by the road. What side is the sun on?” </p><p>“My left.” </p><p>“Okay, I’ll try to head down the road toward you then,” Steve says, looking back and forth. The voices are getting louder, footsteps trotting up the steps as the men decide to look for their boss. </p><p>“Steve-” </p><p>“Be careful,” Steve jogs away from the stairs, skirting around the body of the man he just knocked down. “It’s a blizzard out there.” </p><p>“It is. Are you alright?” </p><p>“I think so,” Steve decides not to think about it too much. Anything not to lose focus. If he tells himself he’s fine, he has to be, and he can keep moving. </p><p>“There he is!” Someone shouts, and he turns to spot a man rising from the second staircase. “Non-fatal blows!” </p><p>“Steve-!” </p><p>“Give me a second!” Steve cries, turning one more time and running toward the large window looking out over the snowy landscape. He puts the phone in his pocket so he can shoot the glass twice. Then he picks up the small wooden table from earlier and throws it, shattering the glass outward and making a space large enough for him to jump through. He’s one floor up, but the snow cushions the blow. Before bullets can fly his way, he’s rolling out of the snowbank and running into the storm as fast as he can. He pulls out the phone again and shields his face with his hand, still holding the gun. “I’ll meet you at the road!” he shouts, and hangs up. </p><p>The men are still on his heels, better dressed for the weather. They’ve stopped shooting at least, given the low visibility. They’re shouting to his left and right and straight behind, spreading out. </p><p>Without his glasses, the whole landscape is a white blur smudged with trees. Steve slides down a small slope, glad that he’s at least wearing his winter boots. The wind in his eyes makes them tear up, rendering him almost entirely blind. But just through the trees, he thinks he can see the road. The shouting is still present, but more distant. Steve fights the deep snow and works his way toward the road, turning his body to put the sun on his right so he’ll be facing Thor’s approach. Soon, he’ll be safe. Thor will protect him, drive him somewhere safe and warm him up. There's nowhere in the world as safe as Thor’s arms, nobody’s hands he’d rather have on him than Thor’s. </p><p>The ground gives way beneath his foot, suddenly not where it should be. He lurches sideways, scrambling for purchase but already smashing into the first tree blocking his descent. The gun drops from his cold fingers, and he scrambles to grab a branch, but he can’t grip it. He falls, taking snow with him, flailing for something to stop him from dropping all the way to the bottom. It’s not a long way down, but it’s a long way to fall. Steve tries to protect his head, to control his tumble in some way, but he’s already lost all sense of direction. Everything is spinning, and everything is white. There aren’t enough trees to stop his fall. He manages to turn somehow, trying to dig his heels in so he can slide down and maybe slow himself, but his foot catches on a rock buried in the frozen ground, hidden beneath the snow he’s plowing through, and he’s flung sideways again. He’s being battered from all sides, until a branch catches him in the head and the world goes from white to black. </p><p>When Steve opens his eyes, he’s on his back in a deep pile of snow, his whole body throbbing and his head spinning. The only sound he can hear is his own body’s laboring functions, and the roar of wind. He can no longer hear the men. </p><p><em> Get to the road. </em> Steve groans and rolls onto his side, the world rolling as he does, so badly that he has to stop and swallow more powerful nausea. The gun is gone, lost somewhere on the way down. Not bothering to look for it, Steve pushes his frozen hands into the snow that reaches mid-thigh standing – if he could stand, that-is, which he can’t. He tries, but he can barely get his torso off the ground before nausea and a tight pain in his chest pin him back down. Desperate to make sure Thor can find him, Steve fights to at least spot some landmarks. To his relief, he can see the road, see the glimmer of the sun barely visible through the flurry. If he just sits here and watches, Thor will be along soon. </p><p>There’s a log closer to the road-side. Shivering, Steve drags himself toward it, digging his feet into the ground but finding that one leg isn’t so keen on bearing the task. It doesn’t want to bend at all, but he crawls along anyway. A few meters feel like miles, but he gets to his log, crouching behind it for a little bit of shelter, and something to remind him of up and down. If he leans against it, he can see the road without having to support his head. Already, he’s fantasizing about being rolled up in warm blankets, Thor’s large hand stroking his hair, calming him with his deep voice. Steve wraps his arms tightly around himself and imagines that it’s Thor holding him instead. <em> Don’t take too long. I need you. </em> There’s only one person who can fend off the dangers of the world. There’s still a chance this <em> is </em> a dream, one he hopes to wake up from soon so that that person can fend those dangers off from his mind. Steve shuts his eyes and hopes to open them somewhere else. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><i>Can</i> you drift an ambulance? You can in the world of fantasy.</p>
<p>Thank god for Canadian pot-holes.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Thor has never been so relieved to hear Steve’s voice, but the worry quickly takes hold once more when he hears gunshots in the background, and Steve hangs up only a moment later. Immediately, Thor calls Fury.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was a supposed to be a trap,” he explains, driving as fast as he dares through the snowstorm on a back road behind the mountains. Fortunately, the road isn’t too steep yet. “Steve didn’t know how many men were up here. All I know is that he got out.” Presuming he hasn’t been shot by now.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m taking his family somewhere safe,” Fury says. “And I’m calling emergency services.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>That sounds like a good idea. Fury will know who to contact to make sure these guys get taken down. Thor would help, but once he finds Steve he’s getting out of here as fast as he can. “Thank you,” Thor hangs up and grips the wheel, wishing this were his 4x4 instead of the little city car they bought when they moved here. The clearance is too low, and it doesn’t have the weight or the horse-power to handle this kind of terrain. Spotting a hill up ahead, Thor gives it some extra speed. The little grey Honda doesn’t manage to breach the crest, slipping back down to the bottom of the hill. Thor turns the car around as it slides down on the ice, parking it at the bottom of the slope and getting out. He’ll have to walk the rest of the way.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor climbs up the hill on the side of the road, were there isn’t any ice. He fights his way up through deep snow, while more pelts his face. At least the enemy can’t see him coming in this weather. He ducks his head into the collar of his jacket and uses the trees to help haul him up the incline, finally reaching the top. There’s another slight dip, then the road goes flat again. Thor lifts his jacket and rests one hand on his gun, shielding his face with the other.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s an even-enough patch on the side of the road that he can run along, searching the storm for signs of movement. Steve said he would meet him at the roadside, with the sun on this side. “Steve?” he calls quietly, worried of alerting the enemy. But he’s also worried about how long Steve has been out in the cold, and what if he got shot? What if he needs help? “Steve!” he calls a little louder.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The lodge is just up ahead, and the mountain behind it; Thor can make out their faint shapes against the storm. He slows to inspect his surroundings better, going quiet to listen for enemies, or for Steve. If the wrong person appears, he’s ready to shoot.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>An odd shape is emerging just ahead, off the road and down the embankment. Thor cautiously approaches, ready to draw his gun. He peers down into the ditch, squinting through the snow to figure out what the shape actually is. It’s a person, for sure... A person, slumped over what reveals itself to be a fallen tree as he gets closer. “Steve?” he calls experimentally, approaching more quickly the moment he recognizes the shape of his boyfriend’s shoulders.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve looks up at him, pushing against the log. He doesn’t get very far before he falls back against it, his face scrunching with pain.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor slides down the embankment and hops over the log as fast as he can. “Steve.” He doesn’t hesitate to reach out and draw Steve into his chest.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve grabs a handful of </span>
  <span>coat</span>
  <span> with stiff, scraped fingers and falls into the embrace, shivering. His exposed skin is pink and he’s covered in cuts and bruises, his shirt torn and completely soaked. There’s a huge gash on his head that looks like it was caused by impact, but it hasn’t bled as much as it could have thanks to the cold. Still, there are smears of blood all down Steve’s face and matted into his hair. Other cuts have smeared blood over Steve’s skin and dotted his shirt, but there are no patches large enough to indicate a stab or a bullet wound. Particularly his dominant hand his split from punching, and both wrists are pink with abrasions, probably from rope.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It strikes Thor that perhaps he shouldn’t be moving Steve like this until he makes sure he hasn’t hurt his back, but it’s probably too late for that considering Steve already moved himself. Thor unzips his jacket and draws his knife, slicing off Steve’s wet shirt and discarding it. Underneath, Steve is bruising badly, particularly on his side where he must have taken the most impact. “Can you walk?” Thor asks, wrapping his jacket around Steve’s shoulders while maintaining his supportive grip. “I’ll help you. The car isn’t too far. You’ll be warmer there.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve winces and makes an effort to move with Thor’s guidance but he doesn’t get very far before pushing away and turning sideways, alarm opening up his features. Reading the signs, Thor provides a steadying hold as Steve throws up in the snow and goes limp.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alarmed himself, Thor rights Steve very carefully and grasps his face when the bout is over. The gaze he receives in return is unfocused and glazed over – that looks like a nasty concussion. All the more reason to get out of the cold. “Do you think you can walk?” he tries again. “You’re too big for me to carry. I need you to help me. We'll go slow.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once again, Steve makes an effort, swallowing roughly and trying to get his feet under him. He follows Thor’s direction, letting himself be practically lifted up, but his legs won’t hold him, and he starts to go down again with a quiet sigh of pain. “S-sorry...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t be,” Thor soothes, easing them back to the ground. “Give it a moment, and we can try again.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think my leg is broken.” Steve hangs onto the strap of Thor’s protective vest, shivering so badly he can hardly speak.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>There goes walking, then. Thor looks down to make sure that no bones are poking out, that Steve’s legs aren’t bent. Both of them look straight, so he hopes the break isn’t serious, or better yet, that it’s just a sprain. “We’ll just stay here then,” Thor reassures, settling down into the snow and bracing himself on the tree for balance as he draws Steve into his lap. “Help will be here soon. We can wait until then.” He loosens the hand clutching him and blows on it before tucking it and the other one under Steve’s armpits. Then he wraps his jacket tighter and hugs Steve into his chest. He holds Steve’s head against him and drops a long, relieved kiss into the damp and tousled hair. If the weather weren’t so bad, he would call Fury and ask for an air-lift, but as it is an ambulance will have to do. If they can make it up the road.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve seems okay, not bleeding to death at least. How badly did he hit his head? That’s the main concern. And they’re still in enemy territory. Thor keeps them low, on high alert for hostiles. And god help the unlucky fool who tries to attack them – there will be no mercy.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened?” Thor asks quietly, in an attempt to keep </span>
  <span>Steve</span>
  <span> awake and talking.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fell...” Steve murmurs, huddling in Thor’s coat and the embrace. “I thought I... I thought...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>So</span>
  <span> did I,” Thor rubs his thumb into Steve’s shoulder, finishing where he thinks the sentence was going. “But I’m here. You’re not leaving my sight.” There are so many more things he wants to ask, but they can wait. It doesn’t matter how Steve ended up here, or how he escaped, only that he’s going to be alright.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked away for barely any time at all, and Steve was snatched from under his nose.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is certainly one way to get more time off work,” he prompts, brushing back Steve’s bangs and wrapping his palm across his forehead. That’ll help warm him up. Thor presses the heel of his hand into the cut there as it starts to bleed again.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve huffs, but it’s hard to tell if it’s a laugh, or just an expression of discomfort.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Still with me?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh huh.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just checking. You can sleep soon, I promise.” And then what? Chances are they can’t go back to the apartment, and Thor isn’t willing to take any chances. Hospital first. Fury can help them find somewhere to go after that.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor is about to suggest they try walking again, for the sake of finding shelter and warmth, but he can hear the sounds of people approaching, so he holds still and reaches for his gun just in case. He scans back and forth, ready to drop Steve and crouch over him if necessary, use the fallen tree as cover. But at the sight of flashing lights, he relaxes somewhat.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A police truck leads the way up the road, the opposite direction that Thor took. Following behind are several cop cars, which spread and park to let the ambulance through. Thor lies Steve flat on his back and stands up to wave them down. The ambulance parks by the ditch and two burly EMTs hop out, wasting no time carrying a stretcher down toward them.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A helicopter would be ideal, but he’ll take what they can get. Thor carefully slips his arm under Steve’s knees and lifts him with the help of one of the men while the other waits with a blanket. They carefully lay Steve on the stretcher, and Thor finds himself taking the blanket and tucking it around Steve himself. The EMT draws it up and straps Steve firmly down, then he and his colleague pick up the stretcher and carry it up the hill. Thor follows, glancing down the road where armed officers are cautiously approaching the lodge. It’s not a priority. Thor looks away and climbs into the ambulance before he needs to be invited. One EMT drops the wheels and secures down the stretcher for the journey, while the other gets into the driver’s seat and pulls away.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>As much as Thor wants to stay glued to Steve’s side, he sits down out of the way so the medical professional can do his job. Meanwhile, he takes out his phone to call Fury.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I got him,” he says. “We’re on our way back.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is he okay?” Fury asks.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s pretty beat up,” Thor admits. “But he’ll be alright. Is everyone else okay?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Everyone is safe,” Fury confirms. “Let me know when you get to the hospital.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Will do.” Thor hangs up, wishing he could reach over and take Steve’s hand, but the stretcher is too far away, the EMT is in his path, and Steve’s hands are warmly tucked under the coat and blanket. He looks uncomfortable, head lolling on the pillows as the ambulance drives cautiously down the uneven road. He hadn’t been given anything for the pain, which he’s clearly in a lot of.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe it’s because of the concussion. But then, nothing has been done for that, either. No assessments have been performed, no dressings applied, no first-aid administered. Not even an IV started, at the very least for warm saline. And those straps are way too tight, clearly causing Steve more pain than he’s already in. Thor carefully watches the man as he goes about his work, rummaging through supplies and doing pretty much nothing. Busy-work, a whole lot of nothing productive. Nothing to help Steve, at least.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor fiddles with his phone while he observes the man’s movements, and the landscape out the back window. For the moment, their tail is clear, the police currently occupied back at the lodge. Something about this is setting off alarm bells. That deep-rooted feelings that something is wrong is flaring up, eating up the relief he was starting to allow to fill him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve still needs him to be in control. Thor observes the EMT from his vantage, noting the </span>
  <span>unsual</span>
  <span> bulk of muscle for someone in this profession, and the ID badge clipped to one hip hidden in a pocket. The man’s hands are rough and unpracticed with the items he’s handling. Hidden away in the side pocket of a first-aid bag stored in a nearby compartment is the distinct shape of a gun. Quietly, Thor loosens his seat belt and slides his phone into his breast pocket, while he rests his hand nonchalantly on his gun. There’s still a chance that he’s made a mistake, that these men really are who they say they are, but that chance is very small the more Thor observes his surroundings.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, he waits to be absolutely certain, and when the man moves, he’s ready. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man draws the gun and swings around fast enough that Thor has to throw up his arm to protect himself from a back-handed blow. It’s been so long since he’s been in a real fight that it takes a second or two for his body to remember what to do.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He remembers quickly. Practicing regularly with Steve has helped keep him from slipping. Thor grabs the arm and twists it until it breaks. The man grunts in pain as he throws himself forward, thrusting Thor against the wall of the ambulance and rocking the whole vehicle.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The space is too small to risk shooting at a moving target, especially with Steve directly behind, so Thor throws a hard elbow into the man’s face instead. Thor is the larger man, and he uses his superior size as he grabs the man by his stolen uniform and flings him around, throwing him into the ambulance wall.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The gun moves up, but Thor punches the man in the throat and yanks the gun away, dropping the cartridge from the handle. He cracks the empty gun into the base of the man’s neck, throwing him to the floor as he starts to fall. Thor throws down the empty weapon and draws his own, shooting the man in the back of the head.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s happening back there?” the driver shouts through the wall between them.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor doesn’t answer, holding the railing of the stretcher for balance as he looks Steve over for anything that man might have managed to do to him. Steve is staring at him with panic, straining to sit up. NO additional damage has befallen him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shh,” Thor holds him down. “I’ll take care of it.” The ambulance is pulling to a stop. Shivering with fear that he’s not lucid enough to combat, Steve fights the straps, his breathing growing increasingly uneven. With his gun aimed and ready, Thor plants himself between Steve and the doors. The driver’s door slams shut and boots stomp around to the back.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>One door opens, and the barrel of a gun pokes around, aimed at leg height. Before Thor has the chance to be maimed, he throws himself at the closed half of the door and smashes it open, straight into the face of the driver. The man stumbles backward, and Thor kills him with a single shot.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nice try,” Thor growls, holstering his gun and shutting the ambulance door to keep the wind and snow out. He turns around and hurries to Steve’s side, loosening the straps all the way down. Then he holds a long kiss to Steve’s forehead. “I’ve got you,” he promises. “Are you alright?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve’s hand works its way out from under the blanket and grabs his sleeve in a weak and shaky grip. “Wha’s goin’ on?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m getting you to a hospital, that’s what,” Thor says, tucking Steve’s hand back under the blankets, back under his armpit so he can warm up better. “Will you be alright back here by yourself for a little while? Just until we get there. Then I won’t leave your sight.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nothing is getting between you and me.</span>
  </em>
  
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Though he seems reluctant, Steve nods. He stiffens. “Thor?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t feel so good...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” Thor pulls down some bags of supplies and looks through them, taking out what he needs. “I bet you feel like shit, but we’ll be there soon. Then you can sleep for as long as you want.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Think I’m gonna be sick...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Uh oh. Thor shoves the bag back into its secure location and slides his hand under Steve’s head. “Breathe through it, sweetheart.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve </span>
  <span>swallows</span>
  <span> forcefully and does his best. “You don’t call... call me that a whole lot.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, he supposes he doesn’t. Pet names aren’t really his thing. Steve rarely calls him by any as well; the odd ‘sunshine’ here or a ‘baby’ there. Mostly when Thor is having a bad day or needs comforting. Steve’s good at that, bringing him down if he’s had a panic attack, or from frustration and lowness if his body is too sore to function the way he wants it to.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve seems to like it. It’s a distraction, at least. “I’ll call you anything you like,” Thor smiles, rubbing slow circles into his boyfriend’s chest to encourage a deeper breathing rhythm. “Sugar, cupcake, sweet-pea, anything you want.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>S’not</span>
  <span> a proper nickname if... if I pick it,” Steve replies, actually smiling a little.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re right, as usual,” Thor agrees, letting go again so he can use the supplies he rummaged for. “Try to stay awake for me, okay? And don’t move.” Ideally, he wouldn’t have to leave Steve all by himself back here, but at least they still have transport. This is better than taking the car. Thor wraps a generous bandage around Steve’s head before the bleeding gets worse. Then he inclines the stretcher and fits a plastic collar around Steve’s neck. “That will help,” he promises, leaning in for a soft kiss on the lips. He tucks the blanket back up, hoping that will do for now, at least for the concussion and accompanying nausea, as well as the hypothermia and shock. Little he can do for the pain at this moment...</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thor...” Steve is trembling with a combination of fear and cold and shock. It breaks Thor’s heart to leave him back here, but at least they’ll still be together.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just rest. I’m going to keep you safe no matter what,” Thor reassures. “We’re in this together, yeah?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmhm,” Steve visibly does his best to relax, sucking in shaky breaths and blowing them out through his nose.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s my man,” Thor praises. “I love you.” With one last kiss to Steve’s cold cheek, he walks away.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bodies he drags into the ditch, inspecting their badges before he abandons them. Sure enough, the ID photos are for different people. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not dead, I hope...</span>
  </em>
  <span> Forcing it not to bother him, Thor makes sure the ambulance doors are properly latched shut and climbs into the driver’s seat. On the passenger seat is a discarded phone. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Safe to assume that backup has been summoned. Or at the very least, the enemy is aware of our escape.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>This is going to be a hell of a ride for poor Steve. Thor turns on the wipers and gets driving, finding a balance between speed and stability. The ambulance is handling the icy and uneven road better than he would expect from a vehicle like this. And fortunately for them, as they lower in altitude the closer to the highway they get, the storm recedes to a light flurry. The road is busy enough that any snow has melted. Thor considers turning on the siren as he waits to merge into traffic, but he pauses at the sight of a cop car parked at the roadside just ahead.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor draws his gun and rests it on the seat beside him before pulling through a gap. He stays in the fast lane and puts his foot down. In the mirror, he watches the cop car join traffic and follow a few cars behind.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s only one way from here to the city, so no chance of trying to lose that car just in case. Thor keeps his eye on it while he watches the other traffic, holding off on the siren for the moment. </span>
  <em>
    <span>There’s no such thing as too cautious.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Certainly not when his boyfriend is in the back, rescued from a kidnapping attempt. Thor pushes just past the speed limit, and the cop car maintains a constant distance behind.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before he knows it, another couple of cars have merged into traffic from the side of the road, fanning out behind him. Thor watches two more cars join in at the back before all five make their advance, gobbling the distance. He holds his hand on the siren and waits patiently.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The instant the police cars turn on their sirens, he turns on his own and speeds up. Other drivers in front immediately peel off to the side as soon as they can, letting him accelerate past, the police cars speeding up too. Their engines have similar specs, but the police cars are smaller and lighter, easily staying on his tail. Thor spots the city up ahead. All he has to do is lose these cars, and get to the hospital.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor does his best not to make too many sharp turns, but the police cars are flanking him, trying to guide him into the ditch on the right side, while another car approaches his bumper. If Steve weren’t in the back, he would break suddenly. Something else will have to do, less jarring for the vehicle and its occupants; instead, he accelerates and holds his position in the middle of the road, keeping an eye on the drivers while he watches ahead. He can spot a pretty massive pot-hole up ahead in the far-left lane. Thor picks up his gun and roles down the window, shooting at the cop car on his left flank to distract from the road ahead. The front glass smashes with two bullets, and Thor steers one-handed around a slight curve in the road. Blinded, the driver drives straight into the massive pot-hole, at which time Thor yanks the steering wheel into him and sends him fish-tailing toward the center barrier. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>One down.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Thor raises his window and puts his gun back on the seat so he can follow a sharper turn in the road with both hands. Another car promptly replaces the other on his left, scraping along the side of the ambulance, trying to slow him down.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>One of the remaining cars starts shooting from behind, aiming at the wheels. Thor makes some effort to swerve despite his lack of room, but there’s enough; he turns into the car on the left, then yanks the wheel to the right and noses the flank of the police car on that side. It’s enough to set both their vehicles into a wobble, threatening to result in a tailspin or a topple, but Thor manages to accelerate out of it and correct his trajectory. The cop car isn’t so lucky, his friend behind too close to stop before t-boning him. Both vehicles grind to a halt.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Two left, one on either flank. Thor glances through the windows of both cars and spots two men who aren’t dressed like officers. He won’t feel bad about taking a shot, then; Thor rolls down his right window first and aims at the driver, shooting until he slumps. With a firm nudge, Thor sends the car into the ditch.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>One car left. Thor shuts the passenger window and sets down his gun so he can steer two-handed around another couple of bends. Up ahead is the city, traffic thickening toward the first set of lights. Luckily with the siren, people are clearing the way. An ambulance isn’t exactly the epitome of maneuverability, but it's certainly not lacking in power, and the weight is well-distributed. But can you drift an ambulance?</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s about to find out – up ahead is a police barricade, blocking their direct route into Toronto, lights blaring. Now </span>
  <em>
    <span>those</span>
  </em>
  <span> are policemen standing around their vehicles ready to draw their weapons, another holding a megaphone. In another situation, if these men weren’t just citizens doing their job and Steve weren’t injured in the back, he would consider driving straight through that barricade. As it is, he’ll have to try something else and hope he doesn’t roll </span>
  <span>the</span>
  <span> ambulance. Thor approaches the intersection and makes no effort to slow down as he turns off the anti-lock </span>
  <span>braking</span>
  <span>. This might not work, but there’s time to change tactics if this vehicle can’t be coerced into a hand-break turn. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I believe in you,” Thor grabs the hand-break and yanks it upward as he turns the wheel. Ambulances are clearly not designed for this, but with a little skill and a dash of confidence, anything is possible. Thor lets the hand-break down and straightens up, accelerating up the adjacent road. Canadian roads are wide, and people move quickly for the siren, particularly with </span>
  <span>the </span>
  <span>pack of police cars close behind. Those officers at the barricade are jumping in their cars to follow, pulling out their radios as they do. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This is going to be a hell of a journey to the hospital.</span>
  </em>
  <span> This is probably the first time these officers have ever tried to </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop</span>
  </em>
  <span> an ambulance from going where it’s supposed to, but to be fair, they probably don’t know it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Or maybe they do, and this goes deep.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It’s too early to rule anything out.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now he has a chance to lose his tail, at least, though that will pose a challenge given that the city’s entire force seems to be in pursuit. The cars are splitting off, attempting to cut him off up ahead while the others follow. The lead car is ordering him to pull over.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Thor mutters, turning back up another road, then across once more to the main highway. The police give up with their orders and stay on his tail. It’s harder for traffic to move out of his way in the dense city, but </span>
  <span>luckily</span>
  <span> it’s quiet out, and those out for the day do their best. Thor in-turn does his best to drive as smoothly as he can, certainly for Steve’s sake who doesn’t need to be jostled any more than he already has been. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry, baby. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Nothing can be done when he’s confronted with a handful of police cars flowing out of a side street in an attempt to cut him off, and he has to execute a tight and hasty hand-break turn. This one is easier now that he knows he can do it. City police have nothing on a mercenary trained by a secret organization.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Still got it. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Thor aims his gun at the police car flanking him, shooting out the closer front tire. The best he can hope for is to put some distance between himself and the cops. The car slides sideways, throwing up sparks as the rubber flies off the wheel and the bare metal drags on the asphalt. Two cars hit it side-on, blocking two lanes and bottle-necking the road. Thor quickly takes another turn, then another when he spots another couple of cars headed his way.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hold on, Steve...” Thor drives as fast as he dares, looking through the building in search of what he wants.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally</span>
  <span> he spots it, another ambulance two </span>
  <span>roads</span>
  <span> over. Thor shuts off his lights and sirens and crosses, cutting off a lane of traffic and putting the other ambulance between him and the line of sight of the police. The moment all the sirens have passes, Thor pulls up another street and drives a little faster. It won’t be long before there are helicopters flying over the city is search of him, but until then he has some time to get to the hospital.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor pulls out his phone and dials Fury as he keeps his eye out for the police, casually joining in with traffic and hoping nobody pays too much attention to the scrapes on both side of the vehicle. Fury doesn’t pick up, so he dials again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You had better be okay too...</span>
  </em>
  <span> To his relief, his phone buzzes between calls, and he stops at some lights to read the text message.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“En-route with the family, talk later,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> it reads, and Thor hopes that’s actually Fury </span>
  <span>sending</span>
  <span> it, and not an imposter.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve is his priority for the moment. Thor cautiously approaches the hospital and gets his bearings before advancing into the car-park. So far, no lights, no sirens, and no cop cars. But there is a black van parked on the curb by the entrance that he doesn’t like the look of.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor prowls the ambulance toward where the rest of the fleet are parked, scanning the main entrance. There’s a man standing by the bus stop, looking over the top of his newspaper and not reading a word. Another is sitting on a bench sipping from a paper cup. Both of them are dressed in dark clothing that hugs their bodies. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Subtle.</span>
  </em>
  <span> To a civilian maybe, but Thor isn’t a civilian. He spots two other men that he doesn’t like the look of, standing near entrances trying to look casual.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>This doesn’t feel right. “Sorry babe,” he murmurs, doing a loop of the emergency drop-off zone and pulling back out onto the road before the men can spot him. He’s going to have to try something else. And if Fury can’t help him, then his options are limited. Thor drives back onto the highway and heads toward the opposite end of town. He dials the number.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thor.” Quick as ever, Loki picks up.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please tell me you’re still in the country,” Thor says urgently. “I need your help.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you need?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need you pick us up,” Thor explains, looking left and right for a good hiding place. He can see not too far off that a helicopter is approaching for a fly-over of the city. “Something that can fit a stretcher in the back. And preferably on the low-profile side?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where shall I meet you?” Loki doesn’t ask for explanations.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The harbor-front center south of Mount Sinai hospital,” Thor says, driving by the terminal and toward the park. “I’ll meet you by the pond.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Give me twenty minutes,” Loki says, and hangs up.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thank god. It’s quiet enough today that he can drive straight into the trail and hide the ambulance under the trees. There’s another hospital nearby, but whoever was after them seems to know that Steve is hurt. The police might know too, even if they were only doing their job chasing down their stolen ambulance. The bad guys probably called in a tip to rally law enforcement. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We’ll find somewhere safe to get you checked out.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Thor holsters his gun and hops out of the cab, pocketing the keys and running around to the back. He unlatches the doors and climbs inside, shutting them behind him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve is still safely lying on the stretcher, the hypothermic pink of his cheeks fading into a pallor. He looks over the moment he realizes Thor is there and wrestles his hand out of the blankets so he can reach out, sitting off the stretcher to get closer despite the pain it causes him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The hand is shaking when Thor closes his own around it and holds it tightly against his chest. “It’s alright sweetheart,” he promises, lowering the railing so he can press closer. Steve must have been at the optimal angle to watch the chase through the back window. Thor tucks Steve’s hand back under the blankets and rubs soothing circles into his boyfriend’s bruised chest. “Loki is on his way. We’ll be safe with him.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The best they can do is wait, and try to get Steve through a panic attack that is already underway. Thor carefully slips his arm under Steve’s shoulders and gathers him close, taking hold of the hand again. Of all the times he’s helped Steve through moments like these, the cause has always been a dream, or simply a trigger. The sun shines warmly through the ambulance windows, but it doesn’t feel warm at all. And this time, Steve is cold and hurting.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor holds him as close as he can without moving him too much, wary of injuries he hasn’t fully labelled. “Breathe, baby,” he coaxes. “I’ve got you. But I need you to breathe.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>You were barely out of my sight, and they got their hands on you. I could have protected you.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He could have stopped those men from taking Steve away, but then he supposes that was the point of waiting for their separation, for calling Steve away on a day when Fury wouldn’t actually be in to notice his employee never showed up. They bought themselves a whole day, and it was almost enough to yank Steve away from him for good.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The concussion and the lingering chills don’t make this any easier, but Steve starts to eventually climb down and breathe more normally. Thor leans over to kiss him softly on the lips in quiet celebration, rubbing his thumb across the tops of Steve’s cold fingers. </span>
  <span>Finally</span>
  <span> the shaking eases to light trembles, and Thor pulls his coat tighter around Steve’s upper body. Not without releasing that hand though. No, that stays with him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Still awake?” he asks quietly.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh-huh,” Steve murmurs. He sounds drowsy and disconnected. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The sooner we get you to a doctor the better.</span>
  </em>
  
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you so much,” Thor kisses Steve’s cheek. “You’re going to be </span>
  <span>alright;</span>
  <span> I will make sure of it.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Love you too,” Steve manages to say. At least he can still understand what’s being said to him, can articulate a response.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Snow and gravel crunch outside. Carefully, Thor lowers Steve’s head back onto the pillow and rests his hand on his gun, moving toward the door and peering out.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thor...?” Steve’s shaking worsens again.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s Loki,” Thor reassures hastily. “He’s here. It’s okay.” A white transit van is pulling into the parking lot, Loki in the driver’s seat. Thor runs back to the stretcher and raises the railing again. “Hang tight baby.” He opens up the back door and hops out to hail his brother.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Loki reverses the van into the bushes and gets out to open the back doors, revealing plenty of space. He’s quick to survey the scene in front of him, tight with worry as he scans his brother, then passes his gaze to Steve. “We had best get going,” he says, striding into the ambulance with obvious concern.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where?” Thor asks, unclamping the stretcher so he and Loki can pull it out of the ambulance and lift it straight into the back of the van. “Please tell me you have property out here.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have a house forty-five minutes from here,” Loki says, glancing down at Steve. “Will that be close enough?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Thor sighs with relief, leaving his brother to secure the stretcher in place while he runs back into the ambulance to robs its supplies. “Would you stay with him for a moment? I have to get rid of that.” He gestures the ambulance with his head while he lays the bags on the floor of the van.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course.” Loki stands by the stretcher and gives Steve a couple of gentle pats on the shoulder before resting his hand there. Patiently, he stands guard while Thor gets back into the ambulance and drives it out of the bushes, and toward the harbor, where he leaves a rock on the accelerator and lets it splash into the water on its own. That should make the search more difficult, enough to keep anyone off their trail for as long as necessary.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor takes Loki’s place at Steve’s side, and his brother shuts the doors behind them. The engine starts, and they’re on their way to a safe place.</span>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for your feedback and readership &lt;3 I really appreciate it, as always xx</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The drive is filled with the soft sounds of the music Loki turns on, and Thor’s words of comfort. Mainly, he wants to keep Steve calm and awake, but it’s for Thor’s own sake too. </p><p>Finally they reach the house. Loki opens the gate and drives up a short dirt path to the house. He parks near the door and gets out to open the back. Outside, the air is fresh and clear, the little house guarded by the perimeter wall on one side, and a lake to the other. As Thor helps Loki lift the stretcher out of the van, he peers up through the trees and spots the helicopter far in the distance, still circling over the city. </p><p>Steve is very quiet as they pull him into the house. He looks exhausted and worn down, sick and hurting. He needs painkillers, probably some fluids if Thor is right in guessing he hasn’t had much (if anything) to drink since he was taken. Without professional advice, Thor is hesitant to give Steve anything even though there is a variety of medicine packed with the supplies he stole.  </p><p>They park the stretcher in the sitting room so Thor can lay out his supplies on the couch. The bags contain everything they’ll need: cleaning supplies, dressings, and a splint kit. </p><p>“I’ll make some tea,” Loki says, walking off to tuck the van into the garage and boil the kettle. </p><p>Tea sounds nice. Thor sheds his protective vest and opens up his bags for the things he needs. There’s no guarantee of a hospital in their near future, so he’ll have to do what he can himself. Not daring to leave Steve alone even for a moment, he waits to go wash his hands until Loki returns with hot drinks and milky tea for Steve. </p><p>When he returns from the kitchen, Loki is helping Steve to take small sips from the warm drink, gentle and patient. </p><p>“Thank you,” Thor stands opposite his brother and gives him a grateful smile. </p><p>Loki sets the mug on the lampstand. “What can I do?” </p><p>“Could you get some pillows?” Thor suggests. “And another blanket? And some washcloths.” </p><p>Unhesitant, Loki hurries off. </p><p>There are so many questions to ask, but all of them will have to wait; Steve doesn’t look like he’s up for answering questions, and it might be best to let him disconnect from what just happened before they try to discuss it. Nothing can be done about it just now anyway. Thor does his best to forget the last twelve hours too, and devote his mind to taking care of Steve. </p><p>He’s not sure where to start. The straps, perhaps; Thor undoes them while Steve watches him wearily, a shiver passing through his body every now and then, and his hand squeezing the edge of Thor’s coat while the other remains tightly wrapped around his ribs. </p><p>It’s such a relief that Steve is here at all. Things could be a lot worse. Then again, they could be better. Perhaps he should rule out spinal injuries before he does anything else. Thor loosens Steve’s fingers and opens up his coat, removing the collar before sliding his hand between Steve’s shoulder blades. “I’m going to help you sit up,” he says. “Then I’m going to feel your back, and you tell me if it hurts.” </p><p>Steve can at least follow instructions. He grabs the railing, but Thor pushes him up and does the work, holding him high enough to feel down Steve’s spine. He applies some pressure, but nothing feels out of order, and there is no worrisome bruising. Steve’s expression of pain is caused by the act of sitting, having nothing to do with his back. Just in case though, for the sake of caution, the collar should stay on until some scans can conclusively rule out neck damage. And besides, the stability helped with the pain and nausea before.</p><p>“Okay,” Thor lowers him down again and slips the collar back on. “Okay, that’s good, Steve.” At least it <em>appears</em> that Steve didn’t break his back in the fall that seems to have resulted in many of his other injuries. Chest, for one – Thor lifts Steve’s arm out of the way to inspect the colorful bruising that wraps around his boyfriend’s chest. There’s a bleeding cut across one breast, clearly made by a knife. </p><p>Thor gives Steve’s chest a pat-down, happy to find that nothing buckles. He pushes as gently as he can to gather the information that he needs, but it still causes Steve enough pain that his breathing is sharper. At least he can breathe well enough without the need for oxygen they can’t give him. </p><p>“Ow,” Steve protests weakly as Thor continues to pat down his arms in search of other breaks. The skin is covered in more cuts and scrapes and bruises, some from impact, while some of the cuts are too clean to be from anything but a blade. But no breaks that he can identify. </p><p>“Sorry, sweetheart,” Thor apologizes, unwrapping some gauze and holding it to the bleeding cut in Steve’s chest, pushing Steve’s hand to hold it in place. “What on Earth happened?” </p><p>“Jumped out a window,” Steve admits. It’s only a piece of the puzzle, but it explains the smaller, cleaner cuts scattered over him, mostly on his arms where he must have thrown them up to protect himself. </p><p>Thor can’t help but smile, even at the sight of Steve’s split knuckles and the blood smeared all over his skin. “And put up a good fight,” he says proudly, folding back the blankets to get a look at Steve’s leg. </p><p>“I tried.” Steve tries to keep breathing normally, but he can’t help a little gasp of pain as his leg is disturbed while Thor takes off his boots and socks. The leg is clearly swollen under his jeans. </p><p>Thor finds a pair of scissors among the supplies and cuts off Steve’s pants, and they both wince at the bruising and swelling that looks worse than just a sprain. Feels worse, too, by Steve’s noises and expressions as Thor runs his hand as gently as possible up the leg to feel for displacement. Nothing is shifting or bending where it shouldn’t under his touch. </p><p>Loki appears beside him with an armful of pillows, his concern unfaded. “Here,” he holds up his offerings. Thor carefully lifts Steve’s leg so it can be propped up, grateful for the second pair of trusted hands. “I’ll get some ice,” Loki says. </p><p>It can’t be wrapped until the swelling goes down. The stability will help with the pain, but until then there must be something he can do for it. Thor rummages through the supplies. He wants nothing more than to hook Steve up to a constant flow of painkillers, but not with that concussion. There are some morphine injections in here though. Thor lays out a couple of bottles on the lamp-stand and cleans the tops, drawing the medicine into a syringe. </p><p>If there were nothing else, he knows he could make Steve feel better in other ways, like Steve made him feel better when they had nothing. Steve took such good care of him back then, did everything he could despite his lack of training and lack of supplies. </p><p>“This will help,” Thor promises. “Hold still baby.” </p><p>Steve does as he’s told and squeezes his eyes shut so he can’t see the approach of the syringe. He bites his lip as the needle goes into his thigh. Thor pushes in the medication and draws out the needle, capping it and twisting on a fresh one to draw from the next bottle. </p><p>“One more,” he says. “For your ribs.” He moves Steve’s arm out of the way and administers the second dose. That should do for now. </p><p>Steve shivers and sighs, already more relaxed than he was, some of the tight lines of pain smoothing from his face. His breathing steadily improves as he’s able to take deeper breaths without it causing him so much pain. Thor kisses his forehead and leaves out the rest of the morphine. It might be a long night. </p><p>Loki returns with ice and a bowl of water, some cloths draped over his arm. He sets down the bowl and wraps the bag of ice in a hand-towel before carefully laying it across the worst of the bruising. He does the same for Steve’s ribs. </p><p>“Thank you.” Thor wets a cloth and gives his brother a grateful smile. </p><p>“You look exhausted,” Loki notes. “I can look after him if you want to sleep.” </p><p>There is nobody Thor would trust more to do it, and even though Steve would be comfortable with Loki tending to him, Thor can’t sleep knowing the work isn’t done. “Thank you, brother. But I should stay up with him.” </p><p>“Of course,” Loki agrees, squeezing Thor by the shoulder. “I’ll get some dinner underway.” He walks off to the kitchen. </p><p>Thor resists the urge to rub his face as he wrings out the cloth. Steve is gazing at him drearily, finally achieving some level of peace. Thor lifts his boyfriend’s hand off the wound on his chest and smiles at him reassuringly. “Doing alright?” </p><p>“Uh-huh.” </p><p>“I’m proud of you.” Thor dabs up the smears of blood around the cut and a few welling droplets. He pushes the gauze back over top while he picks out a suture kit from his arsenal. </p><p>“How?” Steve gazes at him, blinking slowly and heavily. He looks moments away from nodding off, but he stays awake, eyebrows furrowed with confusion. </p><p>“You got yourself out.” Thor swabs the cut, and Steve’s eyebrows pulls together with discomfort, knitting even tighter as the needle slips through his skin. Hoping to provide some distraction as well as offer his sincere thoughts, Thor goes on. “You escaped before they could take you away.” </p><p>“Little good it did.” Steve gestures vaguely to himself. </p><p>“Better here with me than who-knows-where,” Thor objects gently, tying a stitch and cutting the thread. He works on a second. “I'm not going to argue about this with you. You did the best that you could have under the circumstances.” </p><p>Steve doesn’t have the energy to argue anyway, biting his lip as the second stitch is tied. He doesn't release it until the stitching is finished, letting out a short sigh. “I’m so glad you’re here...” </p><p>“Me too,” Thor agrees whole-heartedly, padding fresh gauze over the cut and taping it down before moving on to the next. </p><p>“Lost my glasses...” Steve murmurs. “And my hearing-aid...” </p><p>“Easily replaced,” Thor assures, cleaning up Steve’s hand as gently as he can without sacrificing thoroughness. There’s nothing he can do to completely eliminate the sting of water and alcohol solution in open cuts. Despite how hurt and dazed Steve is, he’s braving through this admirably, trying to stay quiet while he holds still so he can be tended to. Thor wraps a bandage around Steve’s hand and raw wrist, kissing the fingers once the tape is pressed down. “You fought well.” </p><p>“Had a good teacher,” Steve smiles. “And I knew you would come.” </p><p>“Nothing would stop me.” Thor gives Steve another kiss on the lips, unable to continue before he does so. “Just like nothing will take me away from you now.” </p><p>Steve leans into the kiss and lets it happen, tired and wanting.  </p><p>Not even Loki can think of anything snarky to say as he walks quietly up to the couple and pulls a duvet across Steve’s exposed body, tucking in the edges. “You can stay here as long as you need to,” he promises softly. “Whatever you need, Steven.” </p><p>It’s oddly forward for Loki, but it’s what Steve needs. “Thanks,” he whispers, and Loki lingers a moment to give him a smile before walking back to the kitchen. </p><p>Loki hasn’t been that tender in a long time. Even a couple of years back while taking care of Thor, he was never that soft. Caring, yes, and gentle, but there was often a mask of sternness thrown over it, though poorly-constructed. Thor saw right through it of course, but it’s nice to see his brother so comfortable with being completely open with how he feels. Of course it would be Steve who brings that out. Steve brought it back out in Thor, after all, just days into the mission that brought them together. </p><p>“You’re a miracle-worker,” Thor shakes his head, guiding them toward lighter conversational topics. “I haven’t seen my brother like that since we were children.” <em> Then again, Loki probably hasn’t seen me like this since then either. </em> Thor cleans up the cuts up Steve’s arm, covering them as necessary. There’s only one glass slice deep enough to require stitches, and is so short that it needs only one. </p><p>Steve smiles through his wince as Thor starts to dab at his other arm, too tired to offer any more contributions to the conversation, but still listening. </p><p>That’s fine. Thor is finding it relaxing too, just to talk about light-hearted things, whatever comes to mind. He talks about some favorite childhood memories spent with his brother while he tends to the last of the cuts and scrapes on Steve’s body. There are a few stray ones on his left leg, another on his hip that requires an extra careful touch. The bruising alone would be enough to induce a limp if Steve could walk. Lastly, Thor unwraps the hasty bandage around Steve’s head and cleans that up too, scrubbing blood from Steve’s eyebrow and around his ear. Some has reached all the way to his neck, and the bruise reaches down the side of his eye. It requires five stitches before Thor can wrap it back up. </p><p>By the time he’s finished, the swelling has gone down enough that Thor beckons Loki to help him wrap Steve’s broken leg. Thor holds it up so that Loki can splint it and wrap it in place with a bandage. With the morphine still working, Steve barely makes a sound, quietly sipping away at the water Loki brought him. </p><p>Everything that can be done is done, with nothing left but to rest. Thor makes sure Steve is comfortable and warm before cleaning up the wrappers. He puts the bags of stolen supplies on the floor and lowers the stretcher so he can sit on the couch beside Steve and help him eat the soup Loki has made for them. Steve eats what he’s given, and before Loki can offer to serve him another bowl, his eyes are sliding shut. </p><p>Thor stands up and tucks the blankets up to Steve’s chin, kissing his cheek. “I’ll be right here if you need me,” he promises quietly, and Steve gives him a mumble of acknowledgement before going completely still. A second later, his breathing deepens, and he’s passed out. Thor collapses back onto the sofa with a sigh and presses his fingers into Steve’s cheek. The temperature is good, not cold but not hot either. Under Steve’s bicep, the pulse is even and strong. </p><p>Loki gathers the empty dishes and brings Thor another bowl, wrapping a blanket around his brother’s shoulders and sitting next to him on the couch. They eat in silence for a few minutes, listening to Steve’s slow, wheezing breathing. </p><p>The adrenaline is finally draining out of him. He’s never been this worried about someone in his life. When his mother died, the process had been drawn out over a few months. His father too had gone over the course of a few weeks. The grief gripped him deeply, but the loss of his parents had never made him feel anything so visceral as the panic that he might lose Steve. </p><p>“We’ll get him to a hospital.” Loki rests his hand between his brother’s shoulder blades, gently taking away the empty bowl of soup from his hands and setting both on the floor. “Until then we’ll take care of him.” </p><p>Thor appreciates that. He sighs and leans into Loki’s shoulder, rubbing his face wearily. He hasn’t slept since he woke up yesterday morning, and that was at least twenty-four hours ago. Now that his and Steve’s safety no longer depends on his performance, he’s starting to feel the fatigue. </p><p>“Are you alright?” Loki asks. “You didn’t get hurt, did you?” </p><p>“No, I’m fine,” Thor reassures. “It was close thing, Loki.” </p><p>“He’s tough. He’ll be fine.” </p><p>“I know...” <em> Things could be so much worse. </em> “He hit his head pretty hard. What if it’s worse than it looks?” <em> He could have broken his back - he still might have; that's not something I can rule out without scans. He could have been out in the cold for much longer and stopped breathing. </em> “What if he’s bleeding internally?” <em> He could have broken his ribs much worse and punctured his lung. </em> “What if-” </p><p>“Thor. I’ll watch him.” Loki cuts him sternly off. “Sleep. I’ll wake you if I need to. We can discuss everything that must be discussed when you’ve rested.” </p><p>He’s no use to anyone like this. Thor nods in submission and takes off his boots and belt. Loki draws the blinds and brings him a pillow so he can sleep on the couch beside Steve. Comfortable leaving everything in Loki’s hands, and comfortable on the sofa, Thor shuts his eyes and falls right to sleep. </p><p>-- </p><p>When Thor wakes up, it’s much darker outside, apart from the lamplight straight ahead. He sits up and rubs his eyes, looking over the stretcher. Loki has pulled the armchair closer to the stretcher and is reading a book under the lamp. Steve is still asleep, his eyebrows furrowed instead of relaxed, and his lips drawn in a tight line. The morphine must have worn off. </p><p>Thor sits up and checks Steve’s temperature again. The skin is only a little warm, but nothing to be worried about. The shivering has stopped at least. </p><p>“You slept well,” Loki looks up, closing his book and leaving it by the lamp. “I would presume.” </p><p>“Yeah,” Thor rubs his eyes clear. He feels much better. “Did he wake up?” </p><p>“Hardly made a peep.” Loki stands. “I have supper in the oven if you’re hungry.” </p><p>Very. Thor nods and holds his place while his brother brings him a chicken breast with rice and vegetables. He reaches up for the plate. “Thank you.” </p><p>Loki replaces the ice on Steve’s leg and ribs before he sits down with his own meal. He allows Thor a few mouthfuls before breaking the silence. “Fury called.” </p><p>“Was he alright?” Thor asks hastily. </p><p>“Fine. He got the rest of the family to safety. They’re taking refuge in a safe-house.” </p><p>“What did you tell him?” </p><p>“What I knew. You should call him. He’s worried.” </p><p>“Even I don’t really know what happened,” Thor shakes his head, taking his phone when his brother hands it to him. </p><p>“You don’t know who took him?” Loki angles his head toward Steve. </p><p>“Only that they’re associated with HYDRA in some way. Who else would want both of us?” Thor shows Loki the text that was sent to him from Steve’s phone, luring him to the correct location. “They took Steve, and they wanted me next. I presume they had a plan laid out to take both of us where they wanted us. And if they’d wanted to kill Steve, they would have.” </p><p>Loki inspects the text before fixing his eyes back on Thor’s, his expression contemplative. “I would agree that HYDRA must be involved somehow to want both you and Steve.” </p><p>It’s hard to prepare against an unclearly-defined enemy. Ideally, Thor would keep Steve out of this, but Steve has information that they do not. Scratch that – ideally, he would pack up and take Steve back to the Australian coast-line where it’s safe. There, Steve could rest on the ocean-front in peace. </p><p>But they can’t leave this problem without trying to stamp it out, or it will only grow until it swallows them. Thor rubs the back of his neck and dials Fury. “It’s me,” he says when his boss picks up. “Any news?” </p><p>“Barton and Romanoff are here,” Fury says. “I called them back to help. What about you?” </p><p>“We’re safe for now,” Thor relays. “But Steve needs to get to a hospital sooner rather than later. I tried, but it didn’t look safe so we’re taking care of him for now. The police were on us.” </p><p>“I’ll see what I can do,” Fury promises. “He’ll get what he needs.” </p><p>“Thank you.” It’s good to have help. Fury has contacts and resources, even if SHIELD is no longer officially exists. If anybody can find a way to get Steve into a hospital even while they’re being hunted, it’s Fury. Thor hangs up and puts his phone down, missing the cozy peace of Christmas break even though it was only a couple of days ago. “Oh god...” Is it too much to ask to live their lives? </p><p>Loki calmly shuffles closer and pats him on the shoulder. “At ease, brother,” he says quietly. “We’ll sort this out. We did once. We can do it again.” </p><p>“I know we can,” Thor sighs in frustration, dropping his forehead onto his palms. “But I don’t want to have to do it again after this.” </p><p>Loki holds his hand where it is. “When you called me to help you a few years ago, I thought it would be much harder to convince you to leave your job behind. I did not foresee that the world would fight to drag you back in, rather than me having to fight you out of it.” </p><p>“What are you saying?” Thor looks up curiously. </p><p>“Just trying to commiserate,” Loki replies. “And I want you to know that you did the best you could. You laid low, and you took care of yourself. I could not have asked for more.” </p><p>“We had everything...” Thor drops his head again and covers his eyes. The middle of a crisis is no time to fall apart, but with his brother at his side he can hardly help himself. “It was perfect, Loki.” </p><p>“That is was,” Loki agrees. “We will make it that way once more. You will forge a new life, as you always do, find a way to survive and be happy.” </p><p>“I just want to be safe. With him, with you, with everyone else.” Thor huffs to himself and shakes his head at his own words. “I will save you the trouble and say that I should have thought of that before I started working for Fury to being with.” </p><p>“The circumstances were different then, just as they are now,” Loki responds rationally. “And you weren’t in a committed relationship then.” </p><p>“I still had a brother who cared about me.” </p><p>“I abandoned you just as much as you abandoned me. Do not attempt to take blame for what isn’t yours,” Loki chastises. “That was then. This is now. We do what we can for the moment present and those to come, not those that are passed.” </p><p>Thor gives his brother a mournful smile. “You sound like mother. Wise, not taking shit from anyone...” </p><p>“Least of all you,” Loki agrees, but he’s smiling too, offering one of comfort. “Why don’t you have a shower? You will feel better. I won’t leave this room.” </p><p>That sounds refreshing. Loki brings him a change of clothes and some towels, and while Steve sleeps on, Thor gets under the hot stream.  </p><p>Some of his old injuries ache, but not as badly as they could be if it weren’t for all his training. Nothing can replace a real fight, but at least the movements of the fight didn’t shock his scarred muscles. Thor digs his fingers into his shoulder with a wince, kneading it as he rotates his arm to prevent it from stiffening. He needs to be in good shape to protect Steve. The last thing they need during another attack is for his body to fail him. One falter could cost him his life or Steve’s. </p><p>Once the water has sufficiently tended to his body, and the steam has soothed his mind, he gets out and dries off. In the pocket of his combat pants is the ring, which he pulls out to turn over in his fingers. One moment, he was imagining a fairy-tale future that against all odd was just around the corner. Now he’s wondering if they’ll ever manage to be safe. </p><p>They will. There are corners of the world still safe to hide in. Even if HYDRA found them in Australia, there are other places to go. Loki still had property all over the world, and Fury has a safe-house or two. Hell, Nat and Clint probably have some that only they know about. If anyone would know where to disappear to it would be them. </p><p>The perfect proposal will have to wait. Thor hopes he can give Steve just that. They can settle down and never think about HYDRA again. He hopes they can enjoy a proper ceremony. Though Thor pictures it on the idyllic patch of beach in front of his Australian property, he would be equally satisfied with a field of flowers, or even in a church. It’s the only paperwork he’s ever looked forward to signing. </p><p>When he emerges, Loki has the kettle boiling, and the television on low. Grateful to be sucked into a different world for a while, Thor slumps on the sofa beside the stretcher and happily lets himself be whisked into the cooking show Loki has put on. His brother puts a mug of coffee in his hand and sits beside him to watch. </p><p>An hour in, Steve stirs beside him. Thor stands up and Loki shuts off the television, hanging back to take instruction. They both watch with anticipation as Steve slowly rouses from his deep sleep, blinking and wincing. His breathing his shallower, but his lungs sound clear, and his cough is a dry one. Thor reaches out to steady him, looking down with a smile. “Hi baby.” </p><p>“Hi.” Steve rubs his eyes and squints in the dim light. “Wha’s up?” He looks and sounds more lucid than before, though still disoriented. </p><p>“Nothing much.” Thor strokes Steve’s forelock pushed up in tufts by the bandage. “How are you feeling?” </p><p>“No so bad.” Steve winces before he’s even started to sit as he pushes his elbow into the mattress to adjust his position. “Ow...” He looks pale and exhausted in the dim light. There’s a permanent wince stitches into his expression and the tightness of his posture. There are worse outcomes.  </p><p>Thor helps him readjust against the pillow. “Are you hungry?” </p><p>“A little...” Steve wraps his arm around his ribs again and licks his lips. Loki is already in the kitchen making up a plate. </p><p>Thor sits back down and rubs his knuckles against Steve’s cheek for a temperature. Warm, but not worryingly so. “How’s the headache?” </p><p>“It’s not any worse...” Steve shuts his eyes and clumsily rubs his temple where the bandage covers the split in his head. </p><p>So, pretty bad then. Thor takes Steve’s arm by the wrist and folds it away from his head, letting go as Loki appears with a glass of water. Steve takes it and sips, wetting his lips with his tongue before passing the glass off to Thor and steadying the food placed in his lap. Thor lets go of the hand so he can hold the plate while Steve works slowly away at the slice of toast, mashed potato, and some soft vegetables that Loki has arranged for him in manageable portions. Steve doesn’t seem to have much appetite, but he eats his way slowly through the meal anyway, washing it down with water when Thor offers him the glass. </p><p>When the meal is finished, Loki takes the empty dishes away. Steve squeezes the blankets, turning his head away from the lamp and closing his eyes, his brow ever creased. </p><p>“Steve?” Thor gives the hand on top of the blankets a squeeze, wrapping his other hand over top. </p><p>“Okay...” Steve opens his eyes and looks over at Thor. “It hurts.” </p><p>And quite badly, evidently. “Did the medicine help?” Thor asks. </p><p>Steve nods as much as the collar allows. </p><p>Thor stands up and sets out another dose of morphine, folding the blankets out of the way. By now, all the bruising has fully developed, and it leaves nothing to the imagination. Thor loads the syringe and separates the loops of bandage around Steve’s thigh, swabbing the skin and pushing in the needle. He does the same for the chest area, and tucks Steve back in. </p><p>“Better?” He caps his needle and sits down again, sliding his hand under the blanket so he can rub slow circles into Steve’s belly. </p><p>“Yeah...” Steve is already relaxing better. His eyelids are starting to close when they fly open suddenly and fix on Thor’s concerned gaze. “I... I have to go to the bathroom.” </p><p>“I’ll get you a bottle.” </p><p>-- </p><p>When Fury calls, Steve is already deeply asleep again, a damp cloth over his eyes to help block out the light. He fell asleep to the low volume of the cooking show, and the soothing circles Thor continued to rub into his belly. Thor is sitting beside his brother, leaning into each other’s shoulders as they start to nod off as well. The call wakes both of them, and Thor quickly picks it up so the ringing doesn’t wake Steve. </p><p>“Hello?” He stands up and hops over the back of the sofa, keeping his voice low. </p><p>“I managed to sort something out,” Fury says. “I called the hospital in Sudbury to make arrangements. Steve will be safe there. I can have him airlifted if you need.” </p><p>“That would be ideal.” A helicopter trip will be shorter than a drive, and safer. </p><p>“Good. I’m staying with his family at the safe-house, but Romanoff will meet you at the hospital. The helicopter will be there tonight. How does three sound?” </p><p>3 am is still dark. “Yes, that sounds good.” </p><p>“Text me the address,” Fury says. “And call me when you get there.” </p><p>“Of course,” Thor replies. “Thank you.” <em> Steve’s going to get help. He’s going to be okay. </em> It’s been a roller-coaster of fear and relief, and he welcomes this new wave of relief with open arms as he hangs up the phone and turns back to Loki’s waiting stare. “They’re going to airlift him to the hospital tonight at three.” </p><p>“That’s good,” Loki watches him climb back into place on the sofa, leaning forward as Thor draws him into a hug. It’s not over, but at least they have this. Only a few hours, and Steve will be in more qualified hands to treat his injuries. Thor feels that much more relaxed leaning against his brother and holding Steve’s hand while he watches television to burn away the time. </p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sometimes you want elaborate plots, other times you just want cuddly boyfriends.</p>
<p>Lil' bit of sexy times at the end of the chapter. Thanks as always for the feedback &lt;3 I read and enjoy all of it xx</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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<p>Fury has arranged for them to stay at the hospital for a while under fake names. Despite being registered as permanent residents of Canada, and are therefore entitled to health services under their real names, the situation necessitates this. Fury has pulled strings and made phone calls to arrange for the hospital to admit Steve under the name James Darcy – John Smith is too suspicious to anyone who may be calling the hospital making inquiries. </p>
<p>Immediately, Steve is given an IV of painkillers and a mild sedative for the flight over. He’s very quiet, appearing asleep only to open his eyes and mumble something drugged in Thor’s direction. And Thor, tired but a constant presence, agrees and reassures as Steve is taken from test to test. Somewhere along the way, Natasha joins them, adding her watchful eye to both Thor’s and Loki’s. Loki stands in a corner out of the way, eying the procedures like a disapproving guardian angel. Meanwhile, Natasha keeps close to the exits, masking her surveilling of everything that goes on around them with her outwardly friendly demeanor. As for Thor, he stays as close as he can, grateful that he doesn’t have to worry about his surroundings, that he can put his role of boyfriend before his role of agent and give Steve his full attention. </p>
<p>As Steve’s primary care-giver, the doctors direct their findings to him once all is accounted for, and Steve is comfortable in a private room, completely asleep. </p>
<p>He’s going to be on strict bedrest orders for a couple of weeks, but though his injuries are extensive, they aren’t nearly as serious as they could be. No injuries to his spine, and no swelling in his head, so no need for the collar. Nothing permanent, and nothing life-threatening. But a nasty concussion and some broken bones nonetheless, which will take time and proper rest to heal. Three fractured ribs are going to be bothersome to say the least. And the leg: the tibia and fibula both sustained fractures, the weight-bearing bone taking the brunt of the damage. His whole leg is in a cast and propped up on some pillows. </p>
<p>“He should stay off his feet for at least two weeks, no weight on that leg,” the doctor gives Thor a printed sheet. “He can sit, or rest upright. Regular breathing exercises to push air to the bottom of his lungs, and as much moving around as he can handle. There are some exercises he can do there,” the man points to the page. </p>
<p>“I will take care of it,” Thor agrees, folding the page and tucking it into his pocket for safe-keeping. He knows how to take care of injured ribs, at least. “Thank you.” </p>
<p>“I’ve also filled out a prescription for painkillers he can take when you bring him home,” the doctor gives him another sheet of paper. “Otherwise, you can ice his ribs twenty minutes at a time if they’re bothering him.” </p>
<p>Thor folds up that paper too, and tucks it away with the first, nodding gratefully as the doctor walks out and shutting the door behind him. Sighing, he walks across the room and sits at Steve’s bedside, pulling out his phone. </p>
<p>“What are you doing?” Natasha pushes off of the wall and walks over. </p>
<p>“Calling Fury,” Thor rubs his face to wake up his eyes and opens his contacts. </p>
<p>“Done,” she says. “Take a nap. We’ll keep an eye on things.” </p>
<p>“Indeed,” Loki agrees from across the bed, standing out of his chair and holding up a folded blanket and an extra pillow. He passes them commandingly over Steve’s sleeping body. “Go to sleep.” </p>
<p>Thor doesn’t require much convincing. He’s been up all night – it's 6 am now, and his previous nap wasn’t enough to fully refresh him. While he has the chance, Thor gratefully wraps the blanket around his shoulders. He shuffles his chair a little closer and holds the pillow under his head, resting it near Steve’s waist. Then he falls straight to asleep. </p>
<p>-- </p>
<p>Steve is washed in white, expression so peaceful he could be asleep. The casket is filled with white roses, his fingers wrapped around a bouquet and held to his chest. He’s dressed in a spotless white suit. </p>
<p>This should be a wedding.  </p>
<p>Thor stands over the casket and slides his mother’s wedding ring onto Steve’s cold finger. In the end, this life caught up to him, and it took Steve away. It’s nobody’s fault but those who fired the bullet, but it feels like it should be his. That was his job, to keep Steve safe. It was his job from the beginning. They were supposed to grow old together. </p>
<p>“You saved me once,” he whispers. “I was supposed to do the same for you.” He’s the mercenary, the trained agent. He’s fought and killed hundreds. If anyone should be able to protect Steve, it would be him. </p>
<p>It didn’t matter, in the end. Steve is gone. He looks like he could wake up at any moment, but he doesn’t. He won’t. </p>
<p>It’s not fair. </p>
<p>Life gave him every incentive, every warning that it’s time to stop fighting, then it ripped all of that away. It’s not fair. </p>
<p>Thor wakes up slowly, his eyelashes tacky with a couple of half-dried tears. He wipes them away and sits up, fixing his gaze on Steve’s sleeping face. Steve really <em> is </em> sleeping, and he has a heartbeat to prove it. Still, just to reassure himself, Thor reaches out and rests his knuckles on Steve’s cheek. The skin is warm. Thor sighs and wraps his hand around Steve’s fingers, wary of the split knuckles hidden under new bandages. </p>
<p>In his grip, Steve flexes his fingers. He furrows his brow and licks his lips, slowly blinking his eyes open. They immediately find their way to Thor’s. There lingers the slight glaze of drugs, but most importantly, recognition. </p>
<p>“Hi babe,” Thor smiles and leans in for a soft kiss. In his peripheral, both Natasha and his brother politely slip out of the room. </p>
<p>With a grip stronger than he was expecting, Steve grabs hold of Thor’s shirt to pull him closer, sitting up to meet him. His boyfriend’s eyes are welling up, his lips parted as if to speak and the bottom one starting to wobble. </p>
<p>“Hey, take it easy,” Thor orders gently, gathering Steve in his arms and lifting him into a hug. </p>
<p>Steve clutches him in return, wrapping both arms around Thor’s chest and squeezing. He buries his head under Thor’s chin and shakes. </p>
<p>“Let it out,” Thor encourages, resting his head on top of Steve’s and rubbing up and down his back. “I have you, sweetheart.” </p>
<p>Steve doesn’t cry very much, and when he does it’s usually very quiet. Not this time; this is rough, messy sobbing. Maybe it’s the drugs eliciting such a visceral response, or the concussion, but it might be neither – what happened was traumatic all on its own. </p>
<p>Thor doesn’t try to placate, letting Steve squeeze him as tightly as necessary while he holds up his support. It’s difficult not to squeeze Steve right back, but Thor finds a safe space around his waist and his upper back to hang on to. “I love you,” he whispers. “I’ve got you.” That’s the best he can do, promise to protect Steve from the dangers of the world that have caused him so much harm already. </p>
<p>He hangs on until Steve starts to relax and lose the strength to hold on. Then he lowers Steve back down and pulls the blanket back up around his chest. Steve winces and grips his ribs, rubbing tears off his face with the other hand. </p>
<p>“Here,” Thor offers, taking Steve by the wrist and lifting the arm up so he can rest his pillow over Steve’s injured side, laying the arm back down. He pulls a tissue out of the box nearby and holds it over Steve’s nose. </p>
<p>Steve blows, shutting his eyes as Thor tips some water from the bottle on the bedside table in a tissue and uses it to wipe up his face. “S-sorry...” Steve mumbles. </p>
<p>“Don’t be,” Thor insists. If the situation were reversed, he’s certain he would feel like crying too. Actually, he feels like crying now, but it isn’t the time. For the time being, he needs to remain calm and in control so that Steve knows he’s safe. “Here, drink.” He gives Steve the bottle. Steve is more than capable of holding the bottle himself, but Thor can’t take his hands away, and Steve doesn’t seem to mind the assistance. </p>
<p>Steve swallows and clears his throat. “Where are we?” </p>
<p>“Sudbury,” Thor smiles. “I suppose you don’t remember much from the trip.” </p>
<p>“Not really,” Steve replies apologetically. </p>
<p>“How are you feeling?” </p>
<p>Steve shifts his body as if to test, wincing as he does. “I’m okay. Kinda sore, but not too bad.” </p>
<p>“Good.” Thor takes Steve’s hand and laces their fingers. “Are you hungry?” </p>
<p>“A little...” </p>
<p>“The nurse said lunch isn’t until twelve. I was going to get you something from the cafeteria. Natasha is here. She and Loki can stay with you-” </p>
<p>Steve’s grip tightens vice-like. “C-can I come?” </p>
<p>“Steve-” </p>
<p>“Please.” He looks desperate. “Please, Thor.” </p>
<p>“I’ll ask Loki to go instead,” Thor reassures, leaning closer and squeezing harder to confirm he isn’t leaving. </p>
<p>“Y-you should stretch your legs. How long have you been here?” Steve furrows his eyebrows with concern. </p>
<p>“It’s more important that you rest than for me to have a walk,” Thor insists. And besides, Steve can barely sit an inch off the bed by himself, and it clearly causes him a great deal of pain despite the medication dampening it. </p>
<p>“I don’t want to trap you here,” Steve replies with equal insistence. “And I could move a little... Be nice to get up.” </p>
<p><em> Oh, you aren’t getting up. </em> “I’ll ask the nurse,” Thor gives in. “But only if she says it’s alright.” </p>
<p>“Okay,” Steve accepts the conditions without a fight. </p>
<p>“I’ll go ask her.” Thor loosens his hand. “I’ll only be a moment.” </p>
<p>Steve reluctantly lets go and nods. Thor moves as fast as he can in search of a nurse. </p>
<p>A few minutes later, one of the nurses brings in a wheelchair. She parks it by the bed and does a brief assessment, determining that it’s okay for Steve to get out of bed so long as he doesn’t strain himself. She lowers the bed a few inches to make the move easier. Thor helps him sit up and the nurse lifts his legs to turn him around so he’s sitting on the edge of the bed. Then she holds the wheelchair steady while Thor wraps an arm around his shoulders and lifts Steve off the bed, slowly lowering him down into the chair without putting any weight on his leg. Beautiful, stubborn Steve doesn’t protest to the help whatsoever, not even from the nurse, a sure sign that he’s truly shaken. And Thor can’t say he minds Steve’s tight grip on him. Usually, Steve is fiercely self-sufficient, but he allows himself to be moved, welcomes the aid beyond what he actually requires. The closer they are, the better, for Steve’s body, and both their hearts. </p>
<p>While the nurse fastens the IV pole to the chair, Thor adjusts the footrests. He tucks the pillow against Steve’s chest to hold onto, and wraps a blanket around his boyfriend’s shoulders. Then he wraps a second around Steve’s lap and gives him a kiss on top of his head. </p>
<p>The nurse puts a pair of slippers onto Steve’s feet. “Good to go,” she invites kindly, and leaves them to it. </p>
<p>As Thor pushes the wheelchair into the hallway, Loki slips off for a walk, and Natasha casually follows them from a distance. Both of them have concealed weapons, Loki hanging onto Thor’s gun for the time being. Thor pushes his guardian angels from his mind, but he can’t fully shut off the agent inside of him that’s scoping out exit routes and scrutinizing every person they pass. </p>
<p>The cafeteria is busy enough that he feels safe among the crowd, but not so much to overwhelm him. Thor gets in line and picks out a few things to eat so that Steve has a variety to choose from, and Thor will finish off the rest. Steve is slumped in favor of his injured side, and he hasn’t said a word. Thor gives his hair a gentle ruffle. He buys a hot-chocolate at the till along with the rest of their food, and Steve is steady enough to hold the tray in his lap so that Thor can push him to a table. He shoves a chair out of the way and parks the wheelchair, opting to sit right beside Steve and angle themselves toward each other rather than sit on opposite sides of the table. Thor draws his chair close enough to wraps his ankles around Steve’s good leg, and sets the tray beside them. </p>
<p>“What do you want?” he gestures the contents of the tray with his head and picks up the hot-chocolate, sipping to make room for the creams he brought to cool it. He gives the paper cup to Steve, who perks up at the offering. </p>
<p>Steve takes a drink and licks his lips, holding the cup under his nose to enjoy the warmth and the aroma while he surveys the tray with squinted eyes. The back-ups for his glasses and hearing-aid are at the apartment, so Thor presumes it might be a while before they can safely seek out replacements. Steve deliberates for a long time before he decides what he wants, frowning with concentration. “Fruit, please.” </p>
<p>Fruit it is. Thor takes the top off the container of assorted chopped fruits and pushes a grape between Steve’s lips. On another day, Steve would be reaching out to look after himself, but he doesn’t show any signs of resentment as he allows Thor to feed him, the drink clasped in his hands. When the last pieces of watermelon off the bottom are gone, Thor unwraps himself a sandwich and lets Steve work on his hot-chocolate. The sounds of other patients, visitors, and staff mingle around them, chatting and eating. It’s pleasant-enough background noise. Enough to be comforting without overwhelming Thor’s alert senses, or Steve’s concussion. </p>
<p>When Steve swallows the last of his drink, Thor takes the paper cup from him and offers his sandwich. Steve takes a small bite and licks mayonnaise off his lips. </p>
<p>It’s tempting to lean forward and take those lips in his, but they’re in public, and if he’s making out with Steve, his hands certainly won’t be kept to himself. Instead, he takes half the sandwich for himself and gives the other half in the wrapper to Steve. At least Steve has an appetite; he’s working through the sandwich with slow and steady bites, pacing himself without losing momentum.  </p>
<p>“Still hungry?” Thor offers up a blueberry muffin. </p>
<p>“Maybe a little...” Steve eyes it. “What about you?” </p>
<p>“I’ll split it with you.” Thor cuts it in half with the flimsy plastic knife provided and spreads butter across both pieces. “Here.” He gives one over. </p>
<p>“Thanks.” Steve reaches for it. </p>
<p>It’s too cold to go outside and get some fresh air, but they can enjoy the gentle snowfall from behind the windows, inside the warmth of the cafeteria. The snow is a lot more peaceful when they aren’t in it. Thor turns them around so they can watch it better, and he reaches out to give the base of Steve’s neck a rub. </p>
<p>They enjoy each other’s company and the lulling drift of snowfall for a few more minutes, until Steve rubs his eyes with a wince. Thor stands up and puts the leftovers in his pocket, pushing his boyfriend back up to his room. </p>
<p>If only he could scoop Steve up and set him straight into bed, but his boyfriend is just too big. He looks a lot smaller once the nurse has finished helping get him back into bed. She leaves them their privacy once the IV pump is plugged back in and the vitals monitor reattached. Thor lifts Steve’s leg back onto the pillows and draws up the blankets, tucking him in. </p>
<p>Steve settles, resuming his protective hold of his ribs. “Gonna be a while then, huh...” </p>
<p>Thor sits on the bed and strokes his boyfriend’s hair, smoothing down the tufts. “To heal? A little while, but not too long.” </p>
<p>“How long?” </p>
<p>“A few weeks for your leg, six to eight in the cast. Two off your feet for certain.” </p>
<p>“Where are we going? After here I mean...” </p>
<p>“Somewhere safe,” Thor assures, taking Steve by either side of his head and bending down to kiss his hair. “Fury is looking after us.” </p>
<p>“Is everybody else okay?” Steve’s hand finds its way back into Thor’s shirt, twisting a handful of fabric. “Thor... my mom...” </p>
<p>“She’s fine,” Thor says, replacing the shirt with his own hand and inviting it to be squeezed. “Fury has her and the others under his protection. Nothing will come to them under his watch.” </p>
<p>“They shouldn’t be dragged into this...” Steve moans. “It’s my fault, I did this to them...” </p>
<p>“Steven, you did no such thing,” Thor promptly interjects, keeping his voice as calm as he can as anger rises inside him for HYDRA and anyone else involved in this. If only he could snap his fingers and make it all go away, he would. If he has to hunt down the remainder of HYDRA to ensure Steve’s safety, he will. His friends would help, Loki would help, but he would do it on his own if he had to. </p>
<p>“I shoulda known what I was doing-” </p>
<p>“And done nothing?” Thor cuts him off. “Steve, HYDRA was going to enact a plan that would harm countless people across the globe, and you stopped them. Your desire to do good does not equate to being at fault for their desire for revenge. These are evil people. Their actions are their own, not yours to shoulder.” </p>
<p>“But I...” Steve swallows, flexing his grip around Thor’s in frustration, tears gathering in his eyes. “I thought... thought that I...” he trails off, licking his lips nervously. Steve has always been so stoic and composed, and it can take a lot to get him to admit when he isn’t feeling well, but the combination of drugs and his injuries and the overwhelming situation he’s been thrown into is destroying his barriers. </p>
<p>Thor has seen him this way before, stumbling over words as he cuts himself off trying to formulate an explanation for how he feels. There’s fear there, maybe of Thor’s response once the truth comes out. “What did you think?” he coaxes gently. “Baby, whatever it is, it’s okay.” He could never be angry. What’s the worst thing Steve could possibly say? </p>
<p>Steve rubs his eye with the side of his hand, trembling as he gathers his words. “What if I hadn’t done what I did,” he says quietly. “What if I left that whole thing alone? None of us would be in this mess.” </p>
<p>If Steve had never stumbled upon HYDRA’s dark-web presence, or attempted to track them down, none of this would have happened. One choice, and it could have saved Steve being kidnapped the first time, and subsequently just several days ago. It would have saved him pain and trauma. But the situation is out of Steve’s control, out of Thor’s. <em> And god I wish I knew just what to do to protect all of us. If only I knew how to seize control, and I would have it already. </em> “I understand,” he replies. “But if you hadn’t made your choice to help, then HYDRA would have carried through with their plan and infected millions of devices. Then what? You know what they could have done with that sort of power. How long before you found out about the damage they had done? Could you have lived with yourself knowing you left your findings aside?” </p>
<p>Maybe someone else could have done the work that Steve did, but maybe not. And Steve is too good to ignore a chance to help other people. </p>
<p>Steve sniffs and stares at the clip on his finger, fiddling with the cable. “I guess...” he mumbles. “And it was more like billions...” </p>
<p>“Billions of devices,” Thor corrects. “And you stopped it. The outcome had you not made that choice is unknown. Perhaps it would have been worse, there is no way of knowing. You saved the lives of countless people who will never know it. My only wish is that it did not cost you.” </p>
<p>Steve blinks away a gathering tear and lifts his head to make eye contact. “It’s not all bad...” </p>
<p>“No,” Thor smiles. “It is not. And<em> I </em> know you saved me.” </p>
<p>“You saved me first.”  </p>
<p>“Perhaps,” Thor smiles and draws Steve’s fingers to his lips for a kiss. He hates to see Steve cry, to see him torn up inside and hurting on the outside. Steve’s wounds need time, and his worries can’t simply be erased, but perhaps Thor can distract from them for a while. He twists the paper band around Steve’s wrist so the writing faces his boyfriend. “What can I do to please you, Mr. Darcy?” </p>
<p>A glimmer of a smile finds its way onto Steve’s lips. He wipes his eyes determinately and reads the name off the band, his smile widening a little further when he realizes what he’s been registered as. “Surely you’d be Mr. Darcy, of the two of us...” </p>
<p>“Is Mr. Darcy not the one who made the first advances?” Thor corrects.  </p>
<p>Steve chuckles at that, just a light one to protect his chest. “I did offer to suck your dick in a B-and-B.” </p>
<p>“And what a marvelous job you did,” Thor kisses the hand again. “Befitting of a gentleman of your class.” </p>
<p>“Okay Ms. Bennet,” Steve plays along despite how weary and pale he is. “Got the hair of a distinguished lady, at least...” </p>
<p>“How kind of you,” Thor peers seductively back. “I thought perhaps I could repay an old favor.” </p>
<p>Steve instantly flushes, his face changing from white to red in a blink. “Huh?” </p>
<p>“Make you feel better,” Thor elaborates, slipping his other hand under the blanket and gown, sliding it up the inside of Steve’s left thigh. “I will be gentle, I promise.” </p>
<p>“Thor, this is a hospital!” Steve shivers with the pleasant tickle of Thor’s calloused hands on the softest, most sensitive parts of him. “What if someone sees?” </p>
<p>Thor leans closer so he can bring his voice down, letting go of Steve’s hand to prop himself up while he goes in for a kiss. It’s a needy kiss, conscious of Steve’s shallower breathing without sacrificing depth. Steve welcomes him into his mouth. “I’m finding it difficult to bring myself to care,” Thor whispers between kisses. </p>
<p>“You’re bad!” Steve whines. “What if...” </p>
<p>“Natasha can keep anyone from finding us,” Thor insists, kissing down the side of Steve’s face to his ear, his beard rubbing all the way around Steve’s smooth jaw. “I was not going to fuck you under these circumstances, but I do have other activities in mind, activities that can remain under the blankets if that pleases you.” He draws his thumb around the crease of Steve’s thigh. </p>
<p>“Thor...” Steve runs out of objections, moving his head so that Thor’s beard will rub him under his ear. </p>
<p>“If you wish,” Thor adds. “If you wish it, I will tend to you, and you need only lie back and relax.” He pulls back just enough to make eye contact. </p>
<p>“O-okay...” Steve blinks up at him, an aroused pink blossoming high in his cheeks. “P-please.” </p>
<p>“Then give me one moment,” Thor pecks him on the lips and walks to the door, peering around it. </p>
<p>Natasha is right outside, and she turns to look at him. “Hey. What’s up?” </p>
<p>“Steve and I are... busy,” he says. “Will you make sure nobody walks in on us?” </p>
<p>“Sure,” Natasha agrees with simply a raised eyebrow, and asks no further questions. Thor eagerly ducks back inside with a grateful nod and shuts the door behind him. </p>
<p>The only windows are on the door and looking out over the parking lot, with no way of anybody catching a glimpse through either. He walks back and folds the blankets out of the way. The gown at least makes for easy access; Thor undoes the bottom tie and moves it out of the way, pulling off Steve’s underwear and leaving it aside for later. If the bed were larger he would be able to safely straddle Steve without hurting him, but this will work fine leaning over from the side. </p>
<p>“Leave it to me,” Thor reminds, though Steve hasn’t attempted their usual play-wrestling. He’s holding the pillow over his ribs with both arms, watching from his inclined position, already aroused.  </p>
<p>Medication can never replace the sensations of an orgasm. Not one delivered by Thor, at least. He takes Steve’s cock in his hand and gives it a squeeze in his palm, coaxing it erect. The small squeak of pleasure from Steve paired with his expression makes Thor twitch. Under different circumstances, this would be more of an event, with both of them naked, both of them receiving attention. But these are special circumstances, and Thor is going to use all the willpower he possesses to forget himself and focus solely on pleasuring Steve until he’s too pleasured to continue. It’s what any good boyfriend would do, and right now that’s all Thor has the intention of being: an excellent boyfriend. </p>
<p>Someday (sooner rather than later, he hopes) they’ll be consummating their marriage in a bed, naked, doing with each other as they always have, but with rings on their fingers and a promise that this will continue until death does them part. </p>
<p>Death had better not fucking do them part before they grow old. </p>
<p>Best not to think about that for the moment. Instead, Thor fills his head with the melody of sounds Steve is doing his best to muffle by stuffing the pillow over his mouth. He uses his hand first, keeping everything more gradual than he ordinarily would. Ordinarily, Steve would arch his back and twist his legs, but he hardly moves this time, beyond a light flex of his good leg. That is until he comes, which renders him unable to do even that. </p>
<p>It takes Steve longer than usual to recover and be ready for a second round, but he <em> is </em> ready for it, his cock swelling erect under a couple of test squeezes. This time, Thor goes in with his mouth. </p>
<p>Suffice to say, it works. Steve manages only two rounds before he’s too tired to continue, panting and limp to Thor’s adjustments as he cleans up all evidence of his ministrations and adjusts his boyfriend back into place. He bends down for a slow kiss, and Steve turns his head toward it and lets it happen. </p>
<p>“Sleep with me?” he slurs. “Please...?” </p>
<p>“If you will be comfortable,” Thor agrees. </p>
<p>“Uh-huh.” </p>
<p>Eagerly, Thor goes to shut off the light, and takes off his shoes. </p>
<p>It won’t be a proper cuddle, but he’ll fit is he’s careful, and it’s better than nothing. Thor slips his arms under Steve’s knees and shoulders to help him shifts sideways a little, then he raises the railing and climbs carefully over it. He wedges his pillow between himself and it, and shuffles under the blankets. Then he props Steve’s head up on his shoulder, turning to kiss it. </p>
<p>“I love you,” he murmurs, rubbing those soothing circles into Steve’s belly. </p>
<p>“Love you too,” Steve sighs contentedly, relaxing into the embrace. For now, everything else can wait. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hashtag power couple.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>His </span>
  <span>whole body</span>
  <span> aches, but at least Thor is there to hold him. Steve wakes up the next morning resting against his boyfriend in a warm, protective embrace, Thor’s head tipped against his. It’s a tight squeeze, two men of their size in this little hospital bed, but Steve wouldn’t have them any farther apart. Nothing in the world could get past Thor’s muscular arms wrapped around him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve yawns and rubs his eyes, turning his head to see Thor is already awake.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They smile at each other. “Hey baby,” Thor says, rubbing his thumb where it’s rested on Steve’s shoulder. “Sleep okay?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Steve agrees. A few nightmares tried to drag his mind away, but he managed to fend them off within the security of Thor’s guard.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Feeling better?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“A little.” The painkillers are taking the edge off, and what Thor did for him yesterday helped him relax so much that his legs still feel warm.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.” Thor leans over and kisses him on the lips. “Breakfast is soon.” Then he carefully separates their bodies and climbs over the railing. It’s a shame that they can’t just cuddle here all day, but Thor stays as close to the bed as he can without being in it, always touching.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>These aches are familiar now, no longer so fresh and vibrant, but faded to something predictable and manageable so long as he doesn’t move wrong. Fortunately, he hardly has to move at all, because Thor is helping him sit out of the pillows, then adjusting them. When breakfast arrives, Steve doesn’t even have to take his arm off his injured ribs to open his bottle of juice, because Thor is already taking the top off for him, along with all the other lids. Then he rests his hand on Steve’s upper thigh.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What about you?” Steve holds up a triangle of toast. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’ve been working harder than I have.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Loki said he would bring me something on his way back from the pharmacy,” Thor politely declines with a charmed smile. “He’s filling your prescription.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Right... He’s going to be off his feet for a couple of weeks, probably making good friends with the wheelchair in the corner. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But at least I’m alive, and it’s not forever.</span>
  </em>
  <span> And if he could choose anyone to take care of him, it would be Thor. Thor has been taking good care of him for almost four years.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Damn he’s lucky. Steve thinks about that as he eats, enjoying the warm hand on his leg and the proximity of the person he trusts most. He’s lucky that Thor is so strong and capable, good enough with his hands to protect from the dangers that are trying to close in on him. Thor is a strong, resourceful, well-equipped, and loving boyfriend, and without any one of those traits Steve would probably be on a plane to wherever the remains of HYDRA are hiding. Staying calm wouldn’t be as doable without Thor, his pillar. Steve isn’t one to hide behind others when a fight breaks out, but maybe this time he’ll keep his head down. Not that he has much choice with his broken leg, but at least he’s at peace with it.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He’s just finishing his meal when Natasha walks in, sliding her phone into her pocket and shutting the door behind her.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What news?” Thor looks up at her.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Natasha draws up a chair on Steve’s other side and sits, glancing between the couple for confirmation. Steve gives Thor a little nod – he feels like he can handle the information. Thor moves the table tray out of the way and takes possession of Steve’s hand again, giving the spy his nod of approval. “Fury had updates,” she says. “Stark found a bounty for both of you on the dark web. Extra for both of you, extra if you’re caught alive. The listing is anonymous, but I think we know who set it up. Stark is trying to trace a location.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t he take down the listing?” Thor asks.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s hidden it from interested parties, but the buyer can still see it,” Natasha explains. “We don’t want to alert the enemy if possible, but we don’t want anyone else involved. The offer is big enough to attract a lot of attention.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Worrisome though the information is, it’s good to know that Tony is on the case. Fury can protect them from current threats, while Tony can fend off new ones, maybe even trace the listing back to HYDRA so the weed can be uprooted. </span>
  <em>
    <span>And ‘weed’ is putting it lightly...</span>
  </em>
  
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor is peering at him with his mouth open, putting words together in his head behind lightly furrowed eyebrows. Steve beats him to it. “The guys at the ski lodge said that whoever they were trying to sell us to wanted me for skill, and Thor for revenge.” There’s a moment of silence while they all contemplate that before Steve speaks up again. “Thor, who were those guys?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Bounty hunters,” he explains darkly. “Nat, did Fury say anything about men the police </span>
  <span>apprehended</span>
  <span>?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“They caught three, including the boss,” she confirms. “They suspect four escaped, two that must have stolen the ambulance on its way up, and another two that are unaccounted for. The police are interrogating the men they have. Fury said he’s keeping tabs on that.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you remember anything else?” Thor turns his attention back to Steve.</span>
  
</p><p><span>Steve shakes his head apologetically. “That’s about it.” </span><em><span>I was too busy getting out of there are fast as I could.</span></em> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about it, Steve,” Natasha reassures kindly while Thor nods along. “We’re just glad you got out.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s glad about that too. “Thanks,” he smiles. “I’m glad you’re here.” There’s a wide range of skills stepping up to protect him from every corner. And he’s grateful to be included in this.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Natasha stays for a little while to keep them company, and they forget about the situation and talk about mundane things instead. It’s pleasant, relaxing, and sets his nerves at ease. Eventually, Loki returns from his shopping trip and pulls up another chair to join in the conversation, passing his purchases to his brother. He’s brought back the prescription painkillers and a couple of outfits, among which Steve spies some loose pants, a couple of t-shirts, and a winter coat. Vaguely, Steve remembers that he lost his.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>After a couple of hours of chatting and relaxing, the group splits up. Loki leaves to get a coffee and do a perimeter check of the building, and Natasha goes to patrol the hallways. Lunch is only moments behind.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to eat by the window?” Thor suggests when the lunch lady has gone.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Steve agrees. That sounds nice. He’s supposed to move around anyway, and would be nice to get off his back for a while.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor stands up and puts the bag of clothes on his chair, pulling out a pair of flannel </span>
  <span>pj</span>
  <span> bottoms. “As much as I enjoy admiring your legs, perhaps you would prefer to be dressed,” he </span>
  <span>suggests</span>
  <span>. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>That would be better. Steve smiles and lets Thor dress him. The gown will have to stay on until his IV is removed, but he’s happy that at least the draft is being kept out. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor adjusts a few things and shuts off the monitor so that he can unclip the cables from the stickers on Steve’s chest. He gets rid of everything except the IV line and moves the wheelchair beside the bed. Though Thor isn’t strong enough to scoop Steve straight out of bed, he’s pretty damn close. He helps Steve sit with a helpful hand between the shoulders, then swings him around by the knees and wraps an arm around his neck, sliding him smoothly down into the chair. Steve is too sore to offer much help, other than to support some of his own weight standing between the bed and the wheelchair. Thor lifts his broken leg onto the footrest and gives him his chest pillow, then wraps him in a blanket and puts on his slippers. Then he goes to move the table to the window.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>While Thor is shifting furniture, Steve grabs the wheels and gives himself an experimental roll. But in preference of keeping one arm holding that pillow against his chest, he allows Thor to push him over instead. Thor seems happy to do it anyway, needing to keep his hands busy, wanting to help in any way he can, as he always has. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>When lunch comes, Thor pulls a left-over sandwich from his pocket and joins in. If they turn away from the rest of the room and just look out the window, it almost feels like they’re sitting at the café on Steve’s lunch break, sharing a midday date. Thor lays a hand on his thigh and gives him a kiss, strengthening the illusion.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice day,” Steve says, looking down at the blanket of snow that dampens everything, and the bright sun. It’s gorgeous outside, but it looks cold.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That it is,” Thor agrees.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The illusion can only last so long. Steve wishes he could keep it up even for Thor’s sake, but he can’t manage it any longer. “Thor?” he gives his boyfriend a look of need steeped in apology. “Can we go back to Australia? When all this is over?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I was thinking the same,” Thor agrees with a solemn smile. “Wherever you feel most safe.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“With you,” Steve answers promptly. “Just with you.” Thor’s place on the Australian beach isn’t safe if Thor isn’t there too.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That was the plan,” Thor replies, his smile warming and his eyes full of pleasure.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>What that man said to him at the ski lodge is playing over in his brain. </span>
  <em>
    <span>They want you for revenge.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He remembers vividly what Thor looked like after having HYDRA’s cruel hands on him, more than once. They’ll do worse to him now, cut him apart slowly, make it drag on for longer than it would have then, when Thor was already wounded and dying from infection and blood loss. They could take their time now, whittle Thor away. All men can be broken. If they get him...</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Steve?” Thor cuts off his train of thought, worriedly leaning forward.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve blinks and focuses intently on his boyfriend’s sharp eyes and beautiful symmetrical features, at the scars that only add more beauty to the carved lines and facets. The bump across his nose, the line on his temple, another on his jaw hidden by the beard, but Steve knows where it is, knows every scar in every crevasse, by touch of finger or by tongue. As much as he loves them, he would hate to see them added to. “Thor, I want you to promise me you’ll be careful. HYDRA might prefer you alive, but only so they can hurt you themselves.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Of course</span>
  <span> I promise,” Thor leans closer and abandons his sandwich so he can take Steve’s hand in both of his. “Steve, there is nothing I want more than for you to be safe, and I want to be there with you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve gives a shaky sigh of relief and slumps forward, rubbing his face.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay?” Thor asks quickly, swiveling the wheelchair with his foot and sliding his chair closer. He cups Steve’s face and rubs his cheek with a thumb.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Steve says, “just tired...” He leans into the hand. “Really tired.” He’s a little surprised that he feels so calm. The panic had him gripped so tightly only yesterday, when he broke down in Thor’s arms. He feels much better now, almost bemused though the situation is terribly dangerous. Panic-worthy. Dreams of these very circumstances have kept him up at night, have torn away control of his body and left him shaking and weak. Bloody, graphic nightmares where HYDRA does to both of them what he can only imagine they would have done given the chance. A chance they came too close to getting.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It’s real now. Bounty hunters caught him and tried to sell him to that old and persistent enemy. Maybe the panic has faded (at least for now) because nothing can compete with his nightmares. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I wouldn’t count on it...</span>
  </em>
  <span> Evil people can surely come </span>
  <span>up</span>
  <span> with worse tortures than Steve’s traumatized brain.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>For </span>
  <span>now</span>
  <span> though, Steve won’t complain. He’s already a hindrance enough as it is. Thor wouldn’t agree with that sentiment, but it’s true: Steve is going to slow them down wherever they go, make things more difficult. In an attempt to </span>
  <span>compensate</span>
  <span>, he’d like to keep his wits about him and makes things easier for everyone.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>There’s no denying that physically, he feels like shit. Less shitty than yesterday, but still at the mercy of his injuries. Without Thor to help him, he’s not sure he could get out of bed by himself. At least with the wheelchair he doesn’t have to worry about falling over due to dizziness, which his lack of glasses and hearing-aid aren’t helping. Thor isn’t having any problem remembering his deaf ear though, bless him. They’re so used to taking it out for sex that Thor always remembers to talk into his good ear. As always, they work perfectly together.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you should have a nap,” Thor suggests. “Shut your eyes, at least. I’ll turn on the television if you want something to listen to.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That would be nice,” Steve agrees. He should rest his eyes as much as he can. At least the lights are kept low enough not to bother him, but staring out at the snow is starting to flare up his headache.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor is such a selfless, eagerly-giving boyfriend. Despite what happened to his body when he first put his life on the line for Steve, he hasn’t tired. The hardest, strongest, toughest man Steve has ever met has the softest, most caring hands and the sweetest smile. The warmest eyes, the most loving touch. It could all change in a second, if enemies burst in through the door. Thor would be on them like a tiger. He’s about the size of one, too.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor helps him back into bed, making sure he’s comfortable before climbing in beside him. It’s preferable to be close. Steve lays his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder and shuts his eyes, the ache across his forehead immediately reduced. “You’re too good,” he murmurs as Thor turns on the television and scrolls through the channels in search of something relaxing enough to listen to.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“One should always cherish that which cannot be replaced,” Thor whispers in his ear.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve smiles. Yes, that is true. He falls asleep to the sound of a nature program Thor managed to find, and a slow massage into his shoulder.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve wakes up long enough to spend time with his friends. They eat dinner the four of them, then Natasha and Loki go back to their guard duties. Thor helps him get to the bathroom, then climbs back into bed with him. They fall asleep together early in the evening.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>His dreams aren’t that vivid. In fact, the moment he feels a hand gently shaking his shoulder and voice calling his name, he forgets whatever was happening.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Steve, wake up,” Thor is calling him in a hushed but urgent voice, already out of bed and leaning over him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” Steve blinks in the darkness. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How late is it?</span>
  </em>
  <span> That should be the least of his worries by the expression on Thor’s face.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We have to go,” Thor urges, throwing off the blankets and pulling open the gown ties. The vitals monitor is already switched off, so it makes no protest when Thor unclips the leads and removes the BP cuff and pulse-ox clip. Lastly, Thor peels off the tape on Steve’s arm and slides out the IV, throwing the tubing on the floor to leak whatever fluid is left. Steve holds the tissue given to him over the hole while Thor gathers some clothes from the bag Loki left.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve doesn’t say another word, throwing the pillow off his chest and lifting his arms so Thor can put a shirt and hoodie over them, tugging them over his head with care and urgency in perfect balance. Steve tries to help to speed them along, wincing as he’s hustled out of bed and into his wheelchair. It hurts, but it’s better than staying here and taking whatever is coming.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Thor murmurs an apology as he lowers Steve faster than usual into his chair. “Here.” He wraps his own coat around Steve’s shoulders and puts on the one Loki bought.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on?” Steve asks as Thor lifts his leg onto the foot rest.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Fury called,” Thor says, putting on Steve’s slippers. “All three bounty hunters in police custody were killed. Tony’s been watching the security feed around the hospital, and he saw something he didn’t like. Nat already got us some transport. We’re going to meet her at the emergency exit.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve has more questions, but he holds his tongue and draws Thor’s jacket more tightly around himself as Thor pushes him. Standing guard inside the door with his gun drawn is Loki, who joins their side to watch their back.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The hallway is eerily dark, and much too quiet. No footsteps, no sounds of the night staff doing their rounds, or doing </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Steve wishes he could see better, but everything is a dark blur, and he can only hear out of one side of his spinning head. Moving that quickly out of bed really made him dizzy, but at least he doesn’t feel like throwing up. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Something moves up ahead, but by the time he registers that it’s a hostile, Loki has already turned around and fired a bullet. The body falls.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thor, go,” Loki says. “Get him out. I’ll be on your six.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Be careful,” Thor replies gratefully, and picks up the pace. He’s running, splitting off down another corridor before they reach the fallen body. They aren’t the most aerodynamic unit, but Thor is handling the wheelchair with impressive skill. It helps his nausea that Steve can’t see that well, and get a better sense of how fast they’re going.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>More bullets sound out behind them. Steve winces, hoping Loki is alright. He can hear more than one gun firing; two, possibly three.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Up ahead, the shadows start to ripple. Not willing to trust his own vision, Steve blinks. Before he’s able to figure it out for himself, Thor confirms with a growl that it is indeed another person. And an enemy at that. Thor swings the wheelchair out of the way, leaving it against the wall and grabbing a metal cart nearby. He throws it and lunges to the side as bullets fire his way, ripping the fire extinguishing off the wall. The man dodges the cart that comes flying at him, raising his gun again.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor is faster, pulling the pin on the extinguisher and spraying it as he approaches, right into the man’s face. He kicks the gun away and cracks him in the head with the extinguisher, leaving him still in a rapidly-growing puddle of blood that even Steve can see from here. The gun, Thor takes for himself.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold this,” Thor puts the extinguisher in Steve’s lap and starts to push him again, dodging the body and carrying on to the central desk where he hides them behind. He ducks down and pulls off his coat, wrapping it around Steve’s casted leg. “Head down, baby.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve nods and slumps in the chair, cradling the extinguisher while Thor creeps up to the phone and pulls it off the desk. He kneels beside Steve as he dials the PA extension.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>There are no nurses, nobody manning the desk, no bloodstains or strewn papers. It’s as if nobody ever came to work, but Steve </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> the nurse came to see him right before he went to bed...</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No connection,” Thor whispers, setting the phone silently back in its cradle and crouching back down. “</span>
  <span>Never-mind</span>
  <span>.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Somebody will have heard the gunshots. A patient, even someone on a lower floor. Anyone.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor peeks around the edge of the desk, but from his inclined position, the mirror mounted above catches his eye. He tugs on the base of Thor’s shirt and points. A man is approaching the desk with his weapon drawn, prowling in search of his targets. Thor holds his gun ready, watching the man move. When the </span>
  <span>enemy’s</span>
  <span> head is turning away from the desk, Thor springs up and leaps onto the counter, jumping off and straight on top of the enemy. Steve watches in the mirror as his boyfriend lands with a thump and brings the man down, but looks away when the killing shot is fired.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve wheels himself backward so he’s within reach when Thor runs around. Then he holds the extinguisher again, and Thor pulls him back into the hallway. With a quick check in either direction, he starts to run again. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>More than once now have they be posed with the choice between elevator and staircase in an emergency, but never have they had the choice of the staircase. It might be safer, but Steve can’t walk, let alone tackle stairs unless he wants to roll his way down, and that seems counter-productive. It’s his fault they have to take the elevator, so the least he can do is get a better grip on the extinguisher in case he has the chance to use it as a weapon. Thor aims his gun into the box as the doors open and checks the contents before pushing Steve inside and pressing the button for the first floor.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He seems to have a plan, at least.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” Thor asks, and they take that moment in the light to look each other over.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve nods and grips the extinguisher with determination. He’s fine. “You?” As far as he can tell, Thor hasn’t been shot. “Where’s your vest?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Loki is wearing it,” Thor says, placing himself between Steve and the door as they open, crouching and aiming his gun. “And I’m good.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Ah, that’s some relief, not that he’s glad Thor is without some kind of barrier. He’s being cautious at the very least. Steve will be little help if Thor gets shot. If only he could push himself as fast as Thor can, or his boyfriend could focus on shooting.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>As the doors open, Thor leads with the barrel of his gun and searches the hallways of the main floor. Things are quiet down here too. Thor grabs the handles and pushes Steve tentatively out, looking left and right before leading the way toward the exit. There’s a way to go before they’re free. Thor pushes him through the sitting area outside radiology and around the corner, past some restricted-access double-doors and a vending machine. When they swing around another corner into a check-in area, they come face-to face with two armed men.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It shocks all four of them equally, but it’s Steve who’s in the best position to attack first, already facing the right way and both his hands on his weapon. Before Thor can stop their trajectory and let go of the wheelchair so he can shoot, before the enemies can aim their weapons, Steve has trust up the extinguisher and aimed the nozzle forward. He squeezes out what’s left straight up into the closer man’s face, then thrusts out the empty canister.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The man cries out as the white substance sprays into his eyes, and the end of the metal cylinder smacks into the front of his knee. It’s not the strongest hit Steve’s ever delivered, but it’s enough to buy Thor the time to shoot the second more distant man. Before the first can recover, Thor shoots him too.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>God</span>
  <span> I love you,” Thor breathes, pausing for the shortest second to look down at Steve before taking his place behind the wheelchair to continue pushing. Steve can’t help but smile a little with pride.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They’re so close. Thor drops his phone in Steve’s lap. “Watch for a text,” he says, looking around the next corner before he aims Steve around it and resumes his run.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve holds the extinguisher in one arm and the phone in the other. Triage is just ahead.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Head down,” Thor orders, flipping up the hood on Steve’s coat. He pushes them past the waiting area and raises his gun, shooting the sprinkler as they pass. Immediately, water starts to spray wildly from the damaged hose, and from all the others down the hallway. An alarm sounds a second later, and Steve winces, tucking himself into his coat as he’s pelted with water. </span>
  <span>Luckily</span>
  <span> it’s waterproof, just like the one wrapped around his leg to keep his cast dry. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve throws his extinguisher to the side as the exit doors slide open. Thor pushes him through the main entrance and into a side-room, then out through the ambulance bay doors where a beige minivan is waiting, Natasha waiting by the open back hatch. She flanks the wheelchair with Thor, and together they lift it smoothly into the van.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s Loki?” she asks.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Coming,” Thor says. “Start the engine.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Natasha doesn’t ask questions, hopping out and closing the hatch. A second later she’s in the driver’s seat, starting the engine.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The phone buzzes. Steve straightens and reads Loki’s text. “Upper entrance,” he says.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Got it,” Natasha pulls away.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve hands Thor back his phone and his coat, looking up at his soaked boyfriend with a smile.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thor smiles back, wrapping his coat around his shoulders and pocketing his phone. While the van drives around to the back entrance, Thor helps Steve out of the wheelchair and between the back row of seats, steadying him while he sits and strapping him in. Natasha pulls a hard turn and opens the sliding door from the driver’s seat. Cold air sweeps into the van while Thor folds up the wheelchair and leaves it on the floor in the back.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Loki is running out the alternate exit, the automatic glass doors shutting behind him. Natasha stops the van for a split second, just long enough for him jump inside. Panting, he slides the van doors shut, and Natasha takes off.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” Thor pulls his brother into a seat and pats him down where bullets have made holes in his clothes, but there is no blood; the shots haven’t penetrated the protective vest beneath.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Wet,” Loki says, holstering his gun and doing up his seat-belt, throwing his look from Thor over to Steve.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m okay,” Steve reassures. And dry.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Natasha turns on the heat and joins traffic. In the near distance, fire engines are on their way. She drives the other direction.</span>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The threat isn't gone, but there's time for cozies.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Fury has managed to gather everyone into one safe-house, and Thor is glad they’re sticking together this time. Natasha drives them along the lakeside where the houses are larger and farther apart. The area is quiet and shrouded in trees, but still well-paved, and not too far from the city. She parks in the drive-in garage beside another vehicle and shuts them safely in.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>While Natasha goes to unlock the door into the house, Loki comes to help Thor get Steve out of the van. It’s easier to guide him between the seats where he has plenty of things to lean on, help him sit in his wheelchair, then lift it out of the back. Without his painkillers, it’s obvious that Steve is in more pain than he was before. But he seems to be in good spirits, looking around at their temporary residents while Thor pushes him inside.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s small for the number of people who are sheltering here, only two floors, but it works. And </span>
  <span>it’s</span>
  <span> cozy, which Thor doesn’t mind. Living in such close quarters will be a change to what he's used to, but at least he and Steve get their own room. Natasha brings them between the sitting room and kitchen, and into a bedroom. Fury, Barton, and Hill are standing around the kitchen table talking, and they look up as the group passes by.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>There can’t be enough beds for everyone here, but Steve is definitely getting one. In fact, he’s going straight into it. Thor helps Steve out of his coat, then onto the mattress, arranging the pillows. He props Steve as upright as he can, and tucks the last pillow under his leg. By the time Thor has tucked Steve in and fished the bottle of pills from his pocket, Loki is at his side with a glass of water. Thor tips the recommended dose into his palm and gives over the pills with the water. Steve swallows them. He’s very pale and breathing more shallowly than before, but his skin is a good temperature when Thor touches his cheek.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s about to tell Steve to try to go back to sleep, but several pairs of footsteps race down the stairs and toward the room. “Steven!” Sarah appears in the doorway, with Bucky and Tony on her heels, following behind as she races to the bed.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve immediately reaches for his mother and hugs her tightly. Thor politely steps back to the door and watches with a smile as Sarah embraces her son, stroking his hair and rocking him in her arms.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“God, Steven,” she murmurs. “Oh god...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m okay,” Steve croaks into her shoulder. “I’m okay, mom.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Twice Sarah has almost lost her son, unsure if he was alright or even alive, probably imagining all the horrible things that evil people could be doing to him. She spends a long time (though not nearly as much as she deserves) hugging her only blood-related child. After a few long seconds, she pulls back and cradles his face, inspecting the cuts and bruises she can see, the bandage on his head and his difficulty breathing. But she can see he’s okay. Banged up, but okay. He’ll get better. Sarah kisses between his eyes and holds it there for a few more well-deserved seconds.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then she draws back so his friends can talk to him, and walks over to Thor, wiping her eyes. She looks him up and down too. “You rescued him,” she says quietly.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I should have been faster-”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You got him out,” she cuts him off. “You got my baby out.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Always.” He lifts his chin.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sarah shakes her head with a smile and wraps him in a hug too, squeezing him tightly. She’s small, but she’s got a grip on her. Let her squeeze – she needs to have that chance, and Thor is built just right for it. He wraps his arms around her and hugs back reassuringly. “Is everyone alright?” he asks quietly.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re fine,” she confirms, drawing off of him so she can look up into his eyes. “Are you?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not a scratch,” Thor smiles gratefully.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened?” she asks. “Is Steve alright?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor reaches into his coat where he put the print-outs, giving them to her. “Nothing too serious,” he reassures. “Broken leg, broken ribs, some cuts and bruises, a concussion. He just needs rest, and to stay off his feet for a while.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sarah reads through the orders, nodding along. When she’s processed the information, she presses the documents firmly back into his hands. “I’m a lucky mother,” she says. “I couldn’t ask for a better man for my son.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Temporarily stunned, Thor stands there dumbly with the papers in his hands, feeling a faint heat rush into his cheeks. “Can... can I ask you something?” he recovers enough to say that, </span>
  <span>glancing</span>
  <span> over at Steve and his friends as he backs out of the room.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sarah follows him into the sitting room, eyebrows furrowed curiously, and with mild concern.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s right to be, because he’s suddenly very nervous, shaking and scratching his head as he tries to think of what to say. In the end, he decides it better not to trust his mouth and unzips a pocket on his combat pants. He holds up the ring box in his sweaty palm and opens the lid.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thor...” she looks from the ring to his face.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wanted to ask...” he swallows. “If... I could.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You want permission?” she smiles widely, shaking her head with a mixture of joy and incredulity. “Thor... </span>
  <span>Of course</span>
  <span> you can. Who would I be to say no? And after everything you’ve been through with him...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wanted to make sure,” he says hoarsely back, closing the box and securing it back in his pocket. “Thank you.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” she breathes, tearing up anew. “Oh god, Thor... This is...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not going to ask him now,” Thor blurts. “Later. When things are... are less... crazy. When he’s better. Somewhere romantic, at least I hope...” and he laughs in self-pity, shaking his head.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sarah smiles at him sympathetically. “He’ll be happy no matter what,” she promises. “You make him so happy. And you keep him safe.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He makes me happy too,” Thor smiles softly. “And he takes good care of me. No matter what, I’ll do my best to protect him.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hope you’ll be careful,” Sarah says. “You’re my boy too.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>That warms his heart, and his smile curves a little wider. “I will be careful, I promise.” It’s astonishing how many people he’s made that promise </span>
  <span>to</span>
  <span> recently.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dressed in warm, dry clothes, the brothers join the agents around the table.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Somebody broke into the police station and shot the bounty hunters they had in custody,” Fury explains. “So far no word on how whoever shot them got in, and they’re still trying to trace the bullets.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Any suspects?” Thor asks, staring at the print-outs Fury has somehow managed to get from the RCMP.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anyone who wouldn’t want us knowing what those men knew,” Fury says. “They were shot before any information could be extracted. And I was about to convince them to let Natasha go down to the station.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whoever they are, they mean business,” Hill says, pushing a paper in Thor’s direction, covered in plain text.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A decoded message. Orders. Orders to move in an outward radius, scouring every hospital in the area in search of Steve, with a description of his injuries to aid the search. “The bounty hunters,” Thor says, giving the page back. “They were the only people who knew Steve was injured.” Who knows how many people the driver called before Thor killed him and stole the ambulance. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stole it back, technically.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who was the message sent to?” Loki asks. “And from whom?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tony intercepted this on its way to an unknown party,” Hill says. “But I think we can assume it’s one of two groups of people.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The remaining bounty hunters in that specific gang, or HYDRA. “And I think we can assume they’re working together,” Thor adds. “Those men in the hospital were definitely HYDRA.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How do you know?” Hill asks.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They cleared out the hospital far too cleanly for an independent group of bounty hunters,” Loki agrees with his brother. “You would be hard pressed to find a group like that with those kinds of resources, particularly since most of them are dead. HYDRA has joined them.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>So</span>
  <span> HYDRA is here, in Southern Ontario, looking for them. “Let them crawl out of their hiding place,” Thor growls. “Saves us having to hunt them down.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We have to be on the alert,” Fury says, looking around to each of them. “Tony is doing his best to find out what he can, but we don’t have much equipment.” A computer is set up at the kitchen counter, plugged into the outlet by the toaster, processing data, a laptop on idle beside it.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s late,” Natasha rests her hand on Thor’s shoulder. “You should get some rest. We all should.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s still dark out. There are a few hours before sun-up. The group parts way, spreading off to their spaces. As Thor turns in the direction of Steve’s room, Loki squeezes his shoulder on his way to his own room. They’re all here together, one big family.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Most of them, at least. Thor pauses and looks over as Fury walks up beside him. “Where’s Coulson?” Thor asks.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“At the police station,” Fury says. “He knows how to get into pretty much anywhere and get the information he wants without drawing too much attention.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He does have a trustworthy face,” Thor agrees with a smile. “</span>
  <span>Government</span>
  <span>-issued ID, I presume.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The federal government has been very helpful.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hope you didn’t tell them that I dumped their property into the lake.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re still looking for that ambulance,” Fury replies with the faintest of smiles. “But they’re helping us. I’m only talking to a very select few people at the top, people I trust. I will not be infiltrated again.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t blame you for what happened, Nick” Thor says. “This time or the last. Nobody does.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know.” Fury doesn’t waver. “But you can be sure that I will take responsibility for it and eradicate every last one of HYDRA’s men.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor smiles back. “I couldn’t think of anyone more capable.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have a good team,” Fury replies with the slightest raised eyebrow. “Go rest, Thor.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you for taking care of my family.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Steve works for me too you know.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Only in the office,” Thor laughs. “He works for me in the bedroom.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want to know.” Fury waves him off. “Go.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yessir,” Thor grins to himself and walks down the corridor to the bedroom.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The lights are off and Steve is asleep, Sarah sitting beside him in a chair with her hand on his head while she reads a book by lamplight. As he shuts the door quietly behind him, she looks up and puts down her book, standing. She beckons him over and offers him the chair.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can stay,” he whispers. “Sarah...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You stay with him,” she insists. “You should be with him.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where are you sleeping?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Upstairs,” she reassures, touching his arm as she slips by. “It’s alright. Stay. He’s my boy, but he’s your man.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor smiles as he watches her go. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not just yet, he isn’t...</span>
  </em>
  <span> Not officially, not on paper. Soon. Thor sighs, taking off his borrowed clothes as quietly as he can. One of his favorite things is watching Steve in a deep sleep, particularly after a night of passionate, vigorous sex when Steve is completely worn out and just collapses. Tonight, Steve doesn’t look as relaxed as he usually does when he sleeps, his expression holding a residual wince of pain, and his breathing too short.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes are open, glinting in the lamplight and looking right at him drowsily.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Thor whispers. “Did I wake you?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No... jus’dozing,” Steve mumbles, reaching out for Thor’s hand. “What’re you doin’ up?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just catching up with the others,” Thor smiles, but it quickly becomes a frown as Steve presses his lips together and tries to prop himself higher. Thor helps him with a hand behind his back. “Do you want some ice?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah,” Steve shakes his head, hugging his chest with one arm. “But if you could just...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A little pressure and extra elevation will help, if Steve doesn’t want the ice. Thor lifts Steve all the way sitting. “Can you stay there a moment?” he suggests.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve nods and patiently waits as Thor rearranges the pillows and climbs into bed behind him, sliding his legs either side of his boyfriend. “How about this?” Thor lies back and wraps his arm around Steve’s chest, bringing him down with him and applying a little pressure to his wounded ribs. “Better?” He tucks the blankets around both of them and weaves his leg with Steve’s left one.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>S’nice</span>
  <span>,” Steve sighs in agreement, his eyelids visibly drooping even from his angle. He nestles his head under Thor’s chin and takes the deepest breath he can manage, letting it out with a gush through his nose and sinking deeper into the embrace. He rests his hand on top of Thor’s.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Comfortable?” Thor asks.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh-huh.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then rest up.” Thor kisses Steve’s ear and rubs his other hand into his boyfriend’s hip. Breathing slightly improved, Steve quickly falls back to sleep, warm and heavy in his arms.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor doesn’t get up until Steve is awake, his boyfriend rousing to the smell of breakfast cooking in the kitchen.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How are you feeling?” Thor asks, gently lifting Steve up so he can slip from underneath and sit in the chair. He hands over a dose of pills and some water.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve swallows them. “About the same...” His arm is still resting protectively around his chest, applying a little relieving pressure, and probably trying to immobilize the muscles on that side. Lifting his arm must hurt.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It might take a while to start feeling better,” Thor commiserates, offering his hands. “I’ll ice your ribs after breakfast. I think I hear your mother in the kitchen. Do you want to eat in here?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve shakes his head and pushes himself up, then grabs one of the hands offered. “I should get up.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doesn’t have to be now.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’d be nice to see everyone,” Steve smiles. “But only if you say it’s okay. You make the rules.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>That he does. “You know, you’re a surprisingly good patient,” Thor jokes, holding still so Steve can use him as a handrail and attempt to get out of bed with minimal assistance. “I seem to recall you warning me that you were a terrible one.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not what you said to me when I caught the flu last year,” Steve smirks, wrapping his arm around Thor’s neck and carefully turning his body, lowering his legs to the floor. His right one is a little harder to move, so Thor slips his hand under it to lower it more smoothly down.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah yes, I remember,” Thor agrees, standing up and turning Steve around, dragging the wheelchair closer with his foot. “You were adorable.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was suffering.” Steve tries to scoff, but he’s already grinning and can’t wrestle it away.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were ridiculous,” Thor agrees, lowering him sitting and kissing the top of his head. “But adorable none-the-less. And though my heart ached for your hardships, and you gave me a hard time for trying to look after you, I swelled at your stubbornness.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your heart or your dick?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Steven, I’m trying to be romantic.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You poetic sap, you,” Steve smiles, laughing and lifting his shoulders as Thor kisses him behind the ear, tickling the sensitive skin with his beard. “And it’s not my fault you phrased it that way.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What if I told you both?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Very</span>
  </em>
  <span> romantic.” Steve cups Thor’s cheek and pushes it until their faces are aligned, kissing him on the lips.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve is a much better patient now than he was when he got sick a year ago, or the other times he’s caught a cold, or when he sprained his ankle on their first Christmas vacation and had to sit around the lovely beach house they rented in Hawaii. Part of it simply must be down to Steve’s lack of strength and mobility, but Thor hasn’t had to tell him off yet, or intercept him trying to move on his own when he shouldn’t be. There have been no protests that he’s fine, and no refusals of aid or relief for his injuries. Thor is worried anyway, was slightly more worried by Steve’s behavior, but he’s less so now; Steve’s eyes are more focused, and he’s so far managed to divulge what he remembers from his kidnapping quite calmly. That’s a relief. Steve has been through a lot, seen things no person should ever have to see, but he’s still whole. Still Steve. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You would tell me if you weren’t okay, wouldn’t you? You would always be mine, even if you weren’t. I would still love you, no matter what. You stuck with me through my hardships. I would stick with you through yours, whatever sort they were.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The trauma might hit Steve harder later, when the dust has settled. It did last time. Thor hopes not, but he’s ready for whatever may come, for whatever help Steve might need.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>For now, Steve looks happy. Thor parks the wheelchair by the sofa and sits beside him, joining Bucky and Tony. Sarah is shortly behind bringing plates of food and a tray of coffee mugs. She puts a portion of pancakes in Steve’s lap and drops a kiss on his head, drawing a chair from the kitchen to his other side. They eat like a family, and they treat Steve as they always do, minus any hearty hugs that usually go around.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ring is in his pocket. Thor could take it out right now, get to his knee in front of Steve and ask him right here in the coziness of the living room. But he won’t, not now. It’s tempting, but he wants them to be alone, and he wants Steve to be in better shape first. Good enough shape that he can take a big hug without it causing him discomfort.</span>
  <em>
    <span> And when all of this madness is over.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Thor doesn’t want his proposal to be too tightly linked to these events.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Breakfast ends, and Thor takes Steve back to his room. It’s about time he checked Steve’s wounds, cleaned and redressed them. “Do you want a bath?” he asks as he helps Steve out of his wheelchair.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’d be nice,” Steve agrees hopefully, wincing as he lies down. Any change of position hurts him. The first few days are always the worst for chest injuries. He touches his cast hesitantly. “What about my leg...?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A shower is out of the question, and Thor is pretty sure that a bath would be too awkward. Maybe he could find a plastic garbage bag and some tape to cover Steve’s cast, but lying down in the tub isn’t going to be comfortable. “I was thinking a sponge bath,” he suggests. Until Steve can stand up, or his chest doesn’t hurt too badly that he can lie in the tub, this will have to do. And Thor is of course happy to do it.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Steve agrees gratefully. “Thank you.” He sinks more deeply into the pillows with a sigh.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll get some towels,” Thor nods, and runs off.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s better this way. Steve can rest more comfortably, and they don’t have to try to get him into the tub and cause him more pain than necessary. His deeper cuts aren’t supposed be soaked either. Thor tracks down some soap and towels from the bathroom, and Fury retrieves some first-aid supplies for him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor shuts the door behind him and sets up his supplies. He hates that Steve is hurting, but that look of love and trust his boyfriend gives him makes him feel warm inside and brings a glow to his cheeks. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You okay?” Steve smiles at him while Thor helps him sit up, then lift his legs so the towel can be spread out beneath him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just thinking,” Thor replies with a smile of his own, sliding off Steve’s pants and working off the shirt and hoodie more carefully. “Admiring my handsome guy.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve looked better.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You could never be less handsome,” Thor contests, rolling up his sleeves. He soaks a cloth with warm water and lathers it with soap. Careful with the pressure, he scrubs it up the center of Steve’s chest. “The scars will only enhance your good looks.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Should I get some tattoos as well?” Steve chuckles.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you like,” Thor replies, washing his way around Steve’s cuts and dabbing over the particularly vibrant bruises. “What would you have?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve shrugs and sits up so his back can be washed. “I </span>
  <span>dunno</span>
  <span>... I haven’t thought about it. That feels good...” His eyelids are heavy with pleasure.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor smiles and rubs the cloth a few more times along Steve’s spine, from the base of his skull to his waist, pushing his fingers through the cloth. There’s no harm in throwing in a massage with the whole package. But he wants to finish this off on a good note, so he puts his washing on hold to take up the first-aid supplies instead.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The wounds look a lot better since he last saw them; their last morning in the hospital. And </span>
  <span>of course</span>
  <span> they look </span>
  <em>
    <span>much</span>
  </em>
  <span> better compared to how they looked right after being inflicted. Thor peels the gauze off Steve’s chest and cleans the cut underneath, murmuring a ‘sorry’ as Steve bites his lip against the sting. The stitches can probably come out soon, but he’ll ask Sarah about that later just to be sure. Thor tapes a fresh pad over the tender cut. It needs to heal a little more before it can be left unexposed. It’ll scar for certain. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>So will Steve’s knuckles, but Thor knows they were scarred already. Steve has always been a fighter. His hand has healed enough that it doesn’t need to be wrapped, so Thor moves on to his head. Even though the split is starting to seal up, it still looks nasty. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You really took a hit.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It hurts to look at, and though not as swollen as it was to begin with, it’s certainly still colorful. Thor cleans it up and tapes some gauze in place to protect it from any stray dribbles of soapy water that may escape while he’s washing Steve’s hair.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor doesn’t get many chances to worship Steve like this, at least outside of sex, which they have plenty of. Sometimes they shower together, and they often take turns washing each other in a desire to look after each other, but not like this. Occasionally, a co-op bath is a good way to unwind after a bad panic attack, but that so rarely happens, and the context isn’t a pleasant one. Steve values his self-sufficiency, so he rarely hands it over. Every moment that he does, Thor treasures, inside or outside of the bedroom.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not every act of service has to be sexual, though Thor has to admit he’s tempted to head that direction, with Steve spread out naked beneath him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Later.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Thor decides to finish his work first. He rinses out the soap and gently rubs Steve’s hair mostly dry before wrapping up his head again. Then he resumes the cleaning and the massage, working his way down Steve’s leg.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh god,” Steve sighs as Thor rubs into his calf. “You spoil me...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s my job.” Thor lifts Steve’s leg and kisses his knee. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m supposed to take care of you, make you feel better. I want to, desperately.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It really is imperative to treasure what cannot be replaced. And when Steve is happy, it makes </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> happy – the simplest equation in the world.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve gives a small, flustered laugh, curling his toes as Thor kisses up his leg, his beard tickling as he goes. Anything outside of this room, beyond or before these few minutes, doesn’t matter. Thor dabs Steve dry and helps him get dressed, then goes to get that ice pack he promised. He returns with a bag of ice cubes wrapped in a towel and rests them again Steve’s ribs. Then he sits on the other side of the bed and brings Steve into an embrace.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Steve says, resting his head on Thor’s shoulder. “I feel a lot better.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m glad,” Thor smiles, kissing the top of his hair. “You’ve been a very good patient.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve been a very good nurse.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do not tell the others. It will ruin my reputation.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What, you don’t think they’ll believe you’re a big bad secret agent if they catch us like this?” Steve looks up at him, a sly smile on his lips. “I think it might be too late for that... Your secret’s out. You’re just a big teddy bear, and the whole world knows it.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I suppose there’s no point in pretending anymore,” Thor chuckles and turns his head into the kiss, leaning back on the pillows while he kneads his fingers into Steve’s back.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, none,” Steve agrees. “I know what you are.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And I know you are no innocent schoolboy,” Thor counters right before slipping his tongue in.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve grunts and shifts himself closer, using Thor to help turn himself into the hug better. He takes the deep kiss with eagerness and returns one of his own. “Busted. Don’t tell my mom.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>If only anyone knew what the pair of them get up to in the bedroom. Steve </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> isn’t an innocent schoolboy. Thor smiles into the kiss, happily indulging in Steve’s needy response to it. Nobody needs them for the moment. Surely even HYDRA can spare them a minute.</span>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for the wait - school ya know.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Thor is insistent that it be this way, even though Steve is perfectly steady to shave himself. He does agree, though, that trying to lean on the counter so he can look in a mirror would prove difficult. Thor would probably have to steady him anyway.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>If this were necessary because he was incapable of taking care of himself, then it would probably bother him. But Thor just wants to help, make his boyfriend’s life a little easier. And Steve likes Thor’s hands on his face.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Steve smiles, using the towel wrapped around his neck to wipe left-over shaving cream off his face.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” Thor beams back, wiping the disposable razor and capping it. “A beard would suit you.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think so...?” Steve crinkles his nose at the thought, trying to imagine his face with one. He’s always kept clean-shaven.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think you could make work whatever you liked,” Thor replies, folding up the towels on the nightstand and coming back to help Steve get dressed for the day, as if this were their usual routine. It will be, at least until Steve’s chest allows him more than the pathetic range of bending he’s currently capable of. And it’s not like he can just bend his leg and bring his feet closer.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor respects his autonomy, of course, and when he’s done with the change of pants (still </span>
  <span>pj</span>
  <span> bottoms; there aren’t many articles that will fit over the cast), he offers up the shirt. Thor holds it so that Steve can easily slip into it, interfering only as necessary, then doing the same with the big hoodie.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Thor asks as he holds his arm steady, watching closely.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My Christmas break is over,” Steve replies firmly, hanging on to his boyfriend to sit himself up and turn around. His body is stiff all over, particularly the right side. His leg is difficult to maneuver without letting it thump straight to the floor, and his back muscles are already sore from the work it takes to move it. His bruised hip aches to move, his ribs compromise his ability to twist and breathe deeply, and the cut in his breast tugs. But nothing will stop him from doing what he can to help, from trying to at least move a little on his own. Fuck it hurts, and it’s difficult, but he can’t lie around stationary all the time. And besides, Thor wouldn’t let him do anything he shouldn’t. Pain is part of healing, and Steve never let it own him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You would most certainly be on sick leave,” Thor comments, making sure that Steve doesn’t fall into his wheelchair.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s hardly field work.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s computer work,” Thor agrees. “And you have a concussion.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll take a break if I need it, promise,” Steve looks up reassuringly, reaching up for Thor’s face. “And Tony has his eye on me.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor lowers for the kiss. “Alright. I’ll be around to check on you.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I look forward to it.” Steve smiles and </span>
  <span>lets</span>
  <span> go, taking hold of the wheels. He needs to get used to moving himself around, at least a little. There aren’t many places he needs to get to, and there will always be people nearby to help him, but Steve wants to feel like his own person. He wants to be part of the solution, not just a victim of the crime.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor is looking down at him with a faint pink in his cheeks and a soft, admiring smile on his lips. His eyes sparkle lovingly. “You're sexy when you’re determined.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll save some for you, for later,” Steve smirks. They can get up to a little something, nothing too boisterous of course; Steve isn’t in much shape for anything too vigorous, and their housemates probably wouldn’t appreciate an excess of screaming and moaning. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Another reason why we should take some time off in Australia after this...</span>
  </em>
  <span> There’s nothing like being able to throw his head back and yell out an exclamation of pleasure as Thor orchestrates his body.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Those thoughts should be saved for later, or he’s going to have to remove that pillow off his ribs and put it in his lap. Steve grips the wheels anew and turns himself toward the door. He’s learned to drive more complex vehicles in worse circumstances. This is nothing.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor follows him out of the room and drops a kiss on top of his head before branching off to find Fury. Meanwhile, Steve rolls himself into the kitchen in search of Tony. The table is laden with whatever equipment is available; two laptops and a PC processing data. Tony is sitting at the table typing, but he turns around as Steve enters the room.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Steve.” Tony gestures the empty space he’s made beside him for the wheelchair. “How you feelin’?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve rolls himself into the space provided. The table is a good height to work at. He gives his friend a grateful smile. “Sore,” he admits.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Well</span>
  <span> I’m glad you’re here,” Tony says, patting him on the shoulder as he stands to pour them both a cup of coffee from the brewed pot. “They gave you the good stuff?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve shrugs. “I didn’t look at the label, but it’s helping.” He reaches up for the mug when it’s handed to him. “Thanks.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whatever you can do,” Tony says, turning the second laptop toward Steve. “I could use your help, but no pressure. I don’t want you to overwork yourself.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve smiles and sips his coffee. “I don’t think anybody in this building would let that happen. And I’m happy to help. I could use something to do, honestly.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where’s Thor? </span>
  <span>Surely</span>
  <span> he could keep you occupied,” Tony remarks with poignant eye contact.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve takes a sip of coffee to hide his faint blush. It doesn’t matter how many years he and Thor have been together, or how many times he and his partner get down and dirty, the teasing will always make him blush. Just a little. “Yeah, well, he’s busy,” Steve replies. “He’s got stuff to discuss with the others, and he didn’t want to bother us. Seems pretty important.” He nods toward the screen with his head.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah,” Tony turns toward both laptops and points between the open windows. “I’m making sure your bounty isn’t visible to anyone but the person who put it up, and I’m trying to trace the false message you got from Fury. Oh, and I’m looking for those bounty hunters on the web, see if I can find their interactions with HYDRA.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wish I </span>
  <span>coulda</span>
  <span> stolen one of their phones,” Steve frowns, looking at his screen and following through where Tony has gotten to with his internet search. “Then we’d have somewhere to start.” If only he’d taken the leader’s phone during their brawl in the ski lodge, then he could have learned more about his captors’ communication with HYDRA.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, don’t worry about it,” Tony waves his hand. “We’ll find something. You and me? We’re the best people to get it done.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We are,” Steve agrees, hoping firmly that he can lend enough of a hand before his concussion interferes. Staring at a computer screen isn’t the best plan, but sometimes sacrifices have to be made.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s good to be back to work, even though he enjoyed his Christmas break, the unplanned extension aside. Having a project helps to focus him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>HYDRA has a bounty on Tony, too. And Fury, Loki, and everyone else currently under this roof, aside from Steve’s mother and Bucky. It’s a small relief, but it’s worth something. Steve hopes that will last, but looking at the size of his own bounty, he knows HYDRA won’t leave anyone he cares about alone. HYDRA wants them gone, and gone </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why now? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Well, it had to come eventually,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Steve reasons, scrolling through the work Tony has already done, getting his bearings and opening himself a new command window. He lowers the brightness of the screen and leans forward to see it better.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>They want me for skill, and Thor for revenge.</span>
  </em>
  <span> That means Steve hasn’t outlived his usefulness. </span>
  <span>Of course</span>
  <span> HYDRA wouldn’t abandon such a large plan as global technological warfare, but how much have they managed to build back up since their project was destroyed? Three years isn’t very long to rebuild something like that, unless they managed to save some of their work. Or maybe they have new plans. Between Steve and Tony, the two of them have enough skill to be powerful assets for the wrong people. Powerful assets for the </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span> people, too, but those people tend not to torture if they want something.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Where are you hiding? What are you up to? Where are you going?</span>
  </em>
  <span> That’s what Steve would consider the priority, where HYDRA plans to go so they can be stopped before they get there. By how much have their numbers swollen? And if some of them are here in Canada, how many? All of them? If they aren’t completely burned from this Earth, then the next time they make a move, Steve might not be so lucky. Steve, or Thor, or anyone they care about. Thor survived debilitating injury and made it out in miraculously-good shape. Steve managed to avoid torture on several occasions. Luck never lasts forever, and despite Thor’s strength and other useful qualities, human </span>
  <span>perseverance</span>
  <span> can only go so far.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>HYDRA comes down, and now, in its entirety. Who else will suffer? There are other programmers out there, other people with useful skills. Other organizations that could get in the way and pose a threat. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But it’s not about that this time, is it. It’s not just about posing a threat. It’s personal. We damn near destroyed you.</span>
  </em>
  <span> And at the top of HYDRA’s hit list are both Thor and Steve. Catch one, and the other will come – they know that. They know.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>So far, their love has only been an asset. Thor is scary when he’s angry, and he grows in size when he gets protective. Steve smiles to himself as he works. He has a hot boyfriend.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A hot boyfriend that he wants to keep around with him for a long time to come. Steve frowns at the screen. The internet never forgets. Everything HYDRA has ever done on the internet is kept somewhere. They’ve changed how they encode data, changed it before Steve went to work for Fury and resumed his part-time search for what remained of the malicious organization. But there were other threats to stop too, threats that took precedents. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everything is available if you know where to look, how to break down barriers. Steve selects one of Tony’s algorithms and runs it where he needs it, stripping away a multitude of security measures from the message he wants access to.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s written in German, both the sender and the receiver anonymous in name, but not in destination. Besides, it bears all the trademarks of a HYDRA transmission; Steve is used to the type of language they use, the way they encode nefarious business with seemingly harmless or unrelated discussion. But as soon as one piece becomes clear, one object of a sentence revealed to be symbolic of a particular person or an item, then the entire picture becomes clear. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How did this get under our radar...?” Tony murmurs as he works away at his own investigations.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We were busy,” Steve replies, pasting the message into a word processor so he can highlight nouns of interest. “Very busy.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Busier than we’d been in months,” Tony agrees thoughtfully.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Natasha and Clint left for more missions in those few months than in double that time just prior. Trafficking rings to bust, illegal weapons trades to halt, hostages to free. SHIELD does it all – or it did, before it collapsed and became something else. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Is it any surprise that HYDRA survived too?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Steve looks at his screen, eyes whizzing between the words in search of a phrase that will unlock the hidden meaning. This message was sent just three weeks ago.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s another in the chain, a confirmation. Steve copies that one too when the computer is done extracting and decoding it, adding it to his document. Thor told him a few months after the ordeal that HYDRA’s first code-reference to Steve was a ‘vanilla twinkie’ - this time, Steve picks two reoccurring nouns from the messages, one for him, one for Thor. The loyal dog and the old street </span>
  <span>cat</span>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bit obvious.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Catch one, and the other will follow. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But they don’t know how well Thor recovered. They know a lot, but they can’t be sure how badly his injuries affected him when they nearly killed him the first time.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It’s clear by the language in the message that they assume Thor is a ruined soldier, a scar-ridden shadow of the powerhouse he once was. They have a record of the injuries he sustained, but they don’t know the outcome. Or, they didn’t when this message was sent.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They don’t see much of a threat in Steve, either. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I was pretty easy to kidnap, then and now...</span>
  </em>
  <span> HYDRA doesn’t know about all the training he’s been doing with Thor. Training is of course very different from a real fight (as he’s already experienced), but he’s at the very </span>
  <span>least stronger</span>
  <span> than he was when HYDRA first captured him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What does it matter at this point?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Steve touches his leg, feeling the rough, solid texture of his cast through his pants.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey. Doin’ okay?” Tony has turned away from his screen and is leaning forward worriedly.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Steve sits up straighter, wincing as he does so a bit too suddenly and gripping the pillow tighter against his chest. “Oh yeah, I’m good. Just thinking...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Break time, maybe?” Tony suggests, glancing at the clock in the lower corner of his laptop and blinking at it. “It’s been a couple of hours.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Already? Steve rubs the bridge of his nose, suddenly aware that his headache has blossomed, as predicted. “Probably a good idea...” he agrees. “Sorry... I didn’t find that much. Nothing helpful, anyway. Old news.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony shrugs and stands up, moving the laptop away from Steve. “Ah well, it was good to have you here. Helps me think.” He pats Steve’s shoulder.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about you?” Steve replies, leaning over to look at Tony’s screen and turning his wheelchair to face it better.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Same,” Tony sighs. “Not much. Old correspondents with bad people, vague confirmations about plans to get revenge on their old enemies. About what you’d expect, but nothing that’ll help us stop them, track them down, or even find out what their next move might be.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not yet,” Steve adds.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll let you know if anything comes up,” Tony smiles down at his friend, then looks up to the entrance. “But for </span>
  <span>now</span>
  <span> I think you’re needed elsewhere.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve starts to turn, but he doesn’t have to twist far because Tony turns the wheelchair around to face Thor entering the kitchen. “Any luck?” Thor asks, taking Steve’s head and bending down to kiss the top of it.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“None,” Steve admits. “But you’ve got a new street name.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Enlighten me,” Thor lifts his eyebrow as he gets out the bottle of pain pills, counting the right dose into his palm.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stray cat,” Steve points at the screen, opening his other hand for the pills. He puts them in his mouth and swallows them with the water Tony brings him. “The old tom with the ragged fur... feral but harmless." He looks back up at his boyfriend.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Scarred, yes. Harmless? No. That sensual smirk alone is disarming. Thor glances at the screen to see just how he’s being described, huffing to himself in amusement before turning his gaze back to Steve. He holds onto the arm rests and leans on them. “I like it.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All you need is a tear in your ear,” Steve reaches up to </span>
  <span>trace</span>
  <span> around Thor’s ear, then down the side of his face.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And what about you?” Thor asks, squeezing his thighs around Steve’s good leg.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me? I’m a golden retriever.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You certainly beg like one.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony spits out a mouthful of coffee into the sink. “Oh god.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor is still in the midst of discussions about battle plans with Fury, but he brings Steve back with him anyway. He helps Steve out of the chair and onto the sofa, Thor sitting front-facing, and Steve with his legs stretched out on the cushions. Happily, Steve gets comfortable in his boyfriend’s lap and leans into his chest, resting his head on Thor’s shoulder and shutting his eyes. Thor wraps a blanket around him and holds him, rubbing a soothing thumb into Steve’s shoulder while resuming his plans with the other agents.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re constructing the shell of a response plan, so that it can be somewhat molded to the situation that arises without catching them entirely unprepared. Only so much can be done, only so much forethought applied.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve doesn’t pay much attention to what’s being said, instead enjoying the rumble of Thor’s deep voice against him. The vibrations soothe him off to a sleep his injured body is calling out for. The pressure on his ribs and his upright position helps </span>
  <span>alleviate</span>
  <span> the pain and deepen his breathing.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s only supposed to be a short nap, but Steve quickly loses track of time, drifting in and out amidst the conversation but never fully focusing on the words being said. People come and go, bring tea and snacks. Thor urges him to drink, and Steve does so obediently while his mother leans over and checks his temperature. Mostly, they let him be, and he’s content to rest. This is so much more comfortable than lying in bed on his back, or sitting in his wheelchair.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Steve rouses enough to be aware of his surroundings, the conversation has ended, muffled voices coming from elsewhere in the house. The kitchen, maybe? Without his hearing aid, and with his good ear pressed into Thor’s chest, he can’t make anything out.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Someone is approaching, a shadow falling over them. Steve lifts his head and blinks up at the person standing just over them, immediately recognizing the blurry shape of Bucky.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Shh,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Bucky signs with a finger to his lips, raising his phone.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve looks back at Thor to see that his boyfriend’s head has fallen backwards and his eyes are shut, his chest rising slowly and steadily. Knowingly, Steve tucks his head back under Thor’s chin and smiles, shutting his eyes. Bucky takes the photo and ruffles Steve’s hair gently before walking away. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nobody needs him for the time being, so Steve sighs deeply and lets himself fall back to sleep.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he wakes up, everything is dark. He sits off the polished metal floor and looks around him. There is nothing to keep him company but the buzzing, flickering light above his head. Shadow swallows everything ahead and behind.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Footsteps resonate in the distance. Steve jumps and looks back and forth, but he can’t tell if the shadows are undulating or occupied, can’t see beyond the blurriness, can’t pinpoint the direction of the sound thanks to his deaf ear and the ringing in his head.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A foot shows itself, sliding into the light, closely followed by the rest of the man attached. Steve remembers that face very well, the face of the man who came the closest to torturing him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Did</span>
  </em>
  <span> torture him, really. What those men did to him in that chair was torture. Thor has told him before that it counted. Steve hadn’t thought it did, because the damage had been so minimal. It counts. Steve scrambles to his feet to run, but his leg collapses beneath him and he cries out in pain. He tries again, cries again, but his leg is too weak to hold him. Broken. Steve scrambles, searching for purchase where there is none, knowing that if he doesn’t escape now then this is the end.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The end will not be a swift one. Panic like a cutting wire knits around his spine as a hand grabs his left ankle and pulls. Unable to support his weight on his broken leg alone, Steve falls all the way to the ground and is dragged backward into the shadows.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fight, he has to fight. Steve kicks his leg in an attempt to free it. All he’s ever had to do is apply whatever effort he can muster, and Thor will come to fill in the gaps. So long as he always tries, always fights, Thor will come. Thor has always come.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve growls and ignores his pain. One time, Thor did the same with far more serious injuries. Steve can make due with just a leg fracture. He pushes his right heel into the floor and turns himself over, trying to twist his left leg free, trying to remember what his secret-agent boyfriend has taught him. Wriggle, squirm, </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> stay still, do everything possible to </span>
  <em>
    <span>escape</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Better to damage his leg further than to allow himself to be kidnapped. Steve grits his teeth against the pain and kicks his attacker in the heel with his own injured leg. The impact hurts, but it’s enough to loosen the grip. Steve flips onto his stomach and gets his legs under him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can’t run, can barely stand up let alone walk, but he has to move. So long as he’s moving, he has a chance. The hands are quickly on him again, wrapping around his chest and throat before his injuries have a chance to bring him down on their own. More hands than one person can possess tie him down, snaking around his body like chains and dragging him away.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Run away, and call for help – the two most important weapons in his toolbox. Steve tugs his arm free of the constricting embrace and reaches out. Before he needs to throw a cry from his open mouth, Thor takes his hand tightly, and yanks him free.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Steve? Wake up.” Thor has one arm wrapped behind Steve’s back, the other hanging onto Steve’s shaking, sweaty hand. “Sweetheart, wake up,” Thor murmurs.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“M’wake,” Steve moans, rubbing his eyes with his free hand and grimacing in pain as he shifts his position. His shirt clings to him with sweat and his respirations are increased.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Deep breaths,” Thor encourages, calm as usual. His </span>
  <span>whole body</span>
  <span> swells as he demonstrates what he wants, and Steve mirrors, bringing himself back down. Proper breathing is important to maintain with broken ribs. The last thing anyone involved in this mess needs is for him to fall ill, to require additional care and monitoring. Pneumonia would knock whatever wind he can currently muster right out of his sails, and he can’t move much as it is.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The room is still bright when Steve looks around, grounding himself to the real world as he continues to breathe as directed. They’re still in the living-room, still cuddled together on the couch, and the room is empty aside from them. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bad dream?” Thor asks.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah...” Steve sighs. “But I’m okay. Ow...” he wraps his arm tightly around his chest against a sudden knot of pain. His leg is suddenly very sore, too. He wiggles his toes, unable to adjust its position other than that.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me get you some ice,” Thor says, kissing his forehead. “And some coffee. I think someone put a fresh pot on.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve sighs his acceptance, welcoming the idea of some release before he’s allowed another dose of meds. “I should go to the bathroom, while we’re at it...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me too,” Thor agrees, neatly slipping his way from under Steve and helping him slide over to the wheelchair.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You could have woken me,” Steve frowns as his boyfriend stretches with a massive groan.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No matter,” Thor smiles and shakes out his legs, pushing the chair toward the bathroom. “You were sleeping, and I wasn’t desperate. I confess I was perhaps even cozier than you.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Impossible,” Steve smiles drowsily, rubbing his face awake. The nap did him some good.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Mmm</span>
  <span>, debatable,” Thor argues, pushing him into the bathroom and shutting the door behind them. He walks around and offers his hands. “</span>
  <span>Well</span>
  <span> then, my love?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I swear you can make anything romantic.” Impressed, Steve abandons his pillow and takes the hands, carefully rising to his feet. Thor pulls down his </span>
  <span>pj</span>
  <span> pants and helps him pivot on his good leg and sit slowly on the toilet.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have a very special set of skills,” Thor smiles, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. His fond gaze grows concerned. “You’re pale. Are you alright?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just tired,” Steve waves his hand wearily. “And hurting. Oh, and stressed.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can imagine,” Thor sympathizes. “What can I do?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just what you have been,” Steve smiles up. “I can’t even think of anything else I’d ask you for.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ve been preparing as well as we can,” Thor offers. “We know little, but can anticipate that HYDRA will continue to make attempts on all of us until they either succeed, or are eradicated. We have discussed an evacuation strategy should our security be threatened here.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>That does relieve the stress at least a little. Some of it. Steve leans on his elbow and rubs his face, looking down at his toes poking out of the end of his cast. “And I guess I make that a little more complicated.” His injuries aren’t life-threatening, and even if he disobeyed all his medical orders and tried to walk, it wouldn’t help much in a speedy evacuation.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fairly complicated already, I would say,” Thor offers, nudging Steve’s casted ankle with his toes for attention. “Hey. It’s hardly your fault. Look at me.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve obeys, and looks. He knows that stare all too well, the one that can warn and comfort all at once. The one that dares ‘try me’ so impossibly lovingly.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It doesn’t matter if you slow us down,” Thor reasons, confronting the truth as Steve likes to have it. “We are prepared. No-one will be in danger because of you. Even if HYDRA attacked us here, there are more than enough people to keep you safe without endangering the rest of us. We are well-manned and well-armed.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor has always been up-front with him. He doesn’t sugar-coat and he doesn’t placate. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>certainly</span>
  </em>
  <span> doesn’t lie. </span>
  <span>So</span>
  <span> Steve believes it, and he feels peace. “I guess...” he sighs in submissions, rolling his leg back and forth on the tile. “I’m pretty useless, aren’t I. Can’t walk, can’t even make my head work right.” Without his concussions, he might be able to at least help out on the planning side of things better.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nonsense," Thor promptly interjects, leaning forward and clasping his boyfriend by the head, drawing him forward for a kiss on the nose. “You’re wonderful to look at.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve spurts out a laugh at that, a pleased pink traveling up his torso all the way to </span>
  <span>the</span>
  <span> tips of his ears.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have no-one to fight, and I cannot help with whatever it is you and Tony do, but does that make me useless?” Thor asks, shooting into the lighter mood he’s created to deliver some of his well-aimed wisdom.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No...” Steve murmurs bashfully. “Your pretty face helps.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My pretty face does little against this threat.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You just implied that mine does!”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I admit that I lied to make you smile,” Thor says matter-of-factly. “Unfortunately, you are unlikely to succeed at seducing the enemy on this occasion, though if you could, I’m certain that would be a viable solution.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gross,” Steve crinkles his nose.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I meant that as in, you are very attractive.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know. I’m just teasing.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So am I,” Thor agrees triumphantly. “Rest assured, Steve, that though you may not be in ideal condition, that it is no burden for I nor anyone else here to help as we can.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Admitting I’m a burden?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Was I not once a burden too?” Thor returns with a raised eyebrow and taps his shoulder, the one that took over a year of healing before he could do a push-up on it, the one that still plagues him. “But did that reduce my value?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Got me there...” Steve agrees. There’s freedom in being able to air his worries, no matter how irrational, and have Thor treat them seriously, calmly, dismantling them the same way that he can a gun.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Utility is not the measure of human value,” Thor says, offering his hands to help Steve to the sink. “A lesson that took several invasive surgeries to truly learn, but one that I will not soon forget.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s one of those things that’s easy to forget when it’s you who needs the help. Steve knows deep-down that it doesn’t matter how much use he provides, or how much help he needs, but this isn’t his ideal set-up. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nothing I can do to change that, other than rest and will my body to heal faster.</span>
  </em>
  <span> And </span>
  <span>of course</span>
  <span> accept what is being given. “Thanks...” he says, resting down his right leg for balance without applying any weight, and washing his hands. “For reminding me. And, well, everything.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” Thor replies easily as he takes his turn dealing with business. “You look handsome, by the way.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What, this?” Steve leans on the counter and gestures around the bruises on his face.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor shrugs and zips up his pants. “I like a man who can handle himself.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You like a man who can handle </span>
  <em>
    <span>you,</span>
  </em>
  <span>" Steve smirks, hobbling backwards out of the way and slowly sitting himself down in the chair.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“An accurate deduction,” Thor agrees, washing his hands. “How did you come to that realization.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A little field work.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“An ongoing research project, I hope.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, endless. The data just keeps rolling in. I may never stop making new discoveries.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I certainly hope not,” Thor says, opening the bathroom door and maneuvering them back toward the kitchen for the aforementioned ice pack and coffee.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>But when they get there, everyone is gathered around the table, looking at Tony’s screens and some paperwork. Urgency clings to the conversation, and it stalls before the two of them can figure out what’s happened. Everyone looks up.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve and Thor open their mouths simultaneously, but Fury is already speaking. “They took hostages,” he says. “They sent a message just now.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me see,” Steve says, and Thor pushes him to the table, demanding a space be made. Tony turns the laptop toward them. On the screen is a paused video, one which he presumes everyone here has already watched. Tony hits play.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“SHIELD residue,” the speaker says, panning the camera around a dimly-lit room full of huddled people, gunmen standing threateningly over them. “No more games. Turn yourselves in, and these people will live. Continue to resist the inevitable, and we kill them. Then we hunt down everyone they have ever known and keep killing until you do as we say. If we must destroy the whole world, then so be it. That cost is on your heads.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The people on the floor shiver against each other, restrained at the wrists and ankles. Men, women, even some children. All of them civilians, collateral. This isn’t their fight. Steve darkens.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The following people must arrive at this address,” the man goes on, holding a piece of paper in front of the screen with the location and the list written on it. Every single person in this room is written on that list, including Coulson who has returned from his expedition at the police department. Sarah and Bucky too. “You have twenty-four hours,” the man concludes, and the video ends.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>No silence is left to fester. “That was sent two minutes ago,” Fury says. “I have already alerted the people I trust, but this is a sensitive matter. This message was sent to us to Steve’s phone via whoever texted him as me prior.” Tony holds up the phone, from which the video has been sent to the laptop.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That address is for an old warehouse a couple of towns over,” Hill explains. “Remote, spacious... perfect place to hold hostages.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And engage in battle without interference,” Clint adds.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We need a plan,” Fury says. “Immediately. No ideas are off the table.”</span>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you as always for your readership &amp; feedback &lt;3</p><p>Sometimes I get to sections and realize I hadn't planned out some crucial details as well as I'd thought.. Whoops.</p><p>Also I managed to find a little time between classes <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/stormyandrescuer">to draw!</a> It's a miracle.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The last time Thor went up against HYDRA, he wasn’t in good shape. But this time he is, and it feels good. He feels ready. Despite his lasting injuries, they won’t get in his way for this. </p><p>The plan is simple: keep HYDRA busy while Thor goes in to retrieve the hostages. Rescue the hostages, destroy what remains. Thor pulls back his hair and holsters the gun and ammo that Natasha gives him. He tucks a couple of blades into the pockets of his protective vest, along with a radio. </p><p>They have twelve hours to fix this. No time is wasted getting everyone armed and geared up, and separated between the two available vehicles. </p><p>Coulson will take Sarah and Bucky to the police station and keep them safe, and be ready to rally interference when Fury calls for it. Meanwhile, Loki, Fury, and the other agents will meet with HYDRA to buy time under the pretense of negotiations, while Thor sneaks in to rescue the hostages. HYDRA is going to fly them to a separate meeting location, separate from the warehouse. When Thor has freed the hostages kept there, then the bullets can start to fly, and they can wipe HYDRA from existence. The plan is to explain to HYDRA that those members on the list currently not present are with Steve in the hospital, that getting him there may be difficult in his condition. </p><p>Steve is at the kitchen table with Tony, helping set up their PC and two laptops with the programs and interfaces they need to manage everything they’re going to be hacking into throughout the course of this mission. </p><p>“You’re going to need this,” Tony says, taking Natasha’s place and offering up a cell phone. “Any key-card barriers can be disengaged with this. You just need to let us know and hold up the phone. Turn it on to read the signal, and we’ll send back the signal you need to get past the barrier.” </p><p>Simple enough. Thor pockets the phone with a nod. </p><p>Tony puts a USB in his hand next. “This is for the surveillance,” he says. “Simple programs, triggered to run when it’s plugged in. You just have to find their surveillance console and plug this in. That will give me and Steve access to the surveillance system, and they won’t even know it.” </p><p>“Thank you,” Thor says, adding the USB to his collection. </p><p>Tony steps out of the way to make room for Steve, who uses the table to push himself standing on his good leg. Before Thor can reach out to help, Steve is falling into his arms for a tight hug. </p><p>They both allow themselves a moment to enjoy the embrace, even though the clock is ticking. Steve buries his face into Thor’s neck and kisses the skin. “Be careful,” he whispers, drawing away. He hangs onto Thor by the waist for balance with one hand, using the other to cup his boyfriend’s face and draw him into a kiss. Steve’s fingers knead into the back of his head, under his ponytail and down his neck, possessing strength and neediness in equal quantities. <em> Come home safe. Come home to me. </em> </p><p>“I will,” Thor promises into Steve’s eyes. This will not be their last kiss. “HYDRA falls tonight.” </p><p>Steve smiles, adjusting a strap on the vest, smoothing down a pocket. “I love you,” he says. </p><p>“I love you too,” Thor replies, and he almost drops to his knee. That would be the perfect promise, wouldn’t it? The ring? A promise that he’s coming home. But that promise would add additional weight to the danger. Everything is going to be alright. </p><p>Steve leans back onto his leg to support his own weight and grabs Thor by the shoulder straps, pulling him down for one last kiss. It’s deep and commanding. When they pull apart, no more words need to be said than what Steve says with his intense stare and his firm, confident nod. </p><p>Thor returns it. Walking out of the house is difficult, but at least Steve will be in his ear. Steve is safe here, removed from the violence, while still involved in the mission where he deserves to be. Thor puts in his earpiece and gets into the van with the others. In a matter of hours this will all be over, and he’ll be back here in Steve’s arms. He pushes the image of the sex they’ll have tonight into the recesses of his brain, forcing it to be an incentive rather than a distraction. </p><p>Not that he needs bribes. Steve bribed him with sex once, when he was bleeding to death, shouldn’t have been able to put one foot in front of the other yet still somehow able. Thor smiles to himself as they drive away from the house and into town. Steve saved his life then, by sticking by him. Without Steve, Thor would have died on the floor in that server room. Even when he was seconds away from death from a bullet in the chest, a lost cause, Steve stayed. Overall, the whole experience is full of trauma and suffering, but there are many moments within that which make him smile. </p><p>“Testing,” Steve says in his ear. </p><p>“Copy,” Thor says immediately, straightening. </p><p>“Testing, too,” Tony adds. </p><p>Everybody copies, confirming that the network is in place. They’re set. Thor checks his weapons out of habit, reading the road signs as they pass. Soon, he’ll get out and let the others on without him. At this time of year, the warehouse is too difficult to reach by road, so Thor will climb the mountain up behind while the others allow the enemy to fly them by helicopter to the alternative meeting location. It’s not the greatest plan, but with civilians involved it’s the best they can do. As soon as the hostages are safe, the cops can be called. </p><p>A safe distance from the small airport agreed upon for pick-up, along a quiet back road, Thor bails out and bids his friends and his brother good-luck. </p><p>The weather isn’t freezing, but snowing just enough to swallow some of the noise. That means Thor won’t be able to hear his surroundings as well, but then anyone in the forest won’t be able to hear him either. It’s better than eerie silence. Thor pulls on his hat and night-vision goggles, hopping into the roadside ditch and up into the forest. Initially, the incline is very steep, but there are plenty of trees to use as hand-holds and pull himself up. With minimal complaining from old wounds, he makes it up to the flattened portion and carries on. </p><p>The black long-sleeved jacket worn under his vest keeps him warm enough, and the snow isn’t deep enough to slow him too badly. All-in-all, the conditions are favorable. Thor swings his arms and leaps over a dip in the ground, steadying himself with a nearby tree. It’s been many years since he did this sort of thing, but training with Steve has helped, and it’s all coming back to him. He may be content with a quiet life, but his body is made for fighting. Is good at it, too. Good at leaping and twisting, no matter how badly scarred it is. </p><p>His physiotherapist deserves a raise. Thor smiles to himself at the descriptions of himself in those HYDRA messages Steve showed him. The enemy has no idea what’s coming for them. </p><p>A trek up the mountain is just the warm-up he needed. Thor slows when the warehouse comes into view. At the sound of rotors, he ducks behind a tree and waits for the helicopter to pass overhead. Not until it passes out of view does Thor re-emerge and continue to advance. </p><p>The warehouse is massive, multi-floored above ground and probably below as well. The whole building is surrounded by a high chain-link fence topped with barbed wire coils. Thor takes out his wire cutters, pulling his goggles around his neck to look around. The ground inside the perimeter is cleared of snow. It’s too dark to make out much without his goggles. Thor cuts himself a hole where a thick pine tree grows close by, using the fronds to disguise the damage he does to the fence once he’s inside, in case a guard walks by. </p><p>Thor crouches in the shadows cast by a derelict fork-lift near the perimeter. He touches his earpiece. “I’m in,” he whispers. “Approaching the back door now.” This is an old building, so he doesn’t anticipate needing to use Tony’s cell phone. </p><p>Somebody is approaching, so he presses himself against the building and holds still. Another mission, another lifetime, and he would be more willing to take risks, but this time he makes absolutely certain that revealing himself isn’t necessary. Aside from presenting risks that would put the hostages in harm’s way, engaging without necessity puts his body at risk too. Somebody needs to be able to love this body when he gets home, and he needs to be able to love that somebody back. </p><p>The guard passes by, and Thor slips along the wall to the door. It’s a simple steel door, with a lock on the handle. Thor puts his gloves in his pocket and draws some pins from a pocket to pick the lock. Just like that, he’s inside. Thor shuts the door behind him and gives himself a moment to adjust to the darker lighting. </p><p>The hostages are being held in the basement, probably. Thor draws his gun and gets his bearings, taking stock of the back corridor he’s found himself in. The only light back here is whatever manages to reflect from either end where the corridor turns at ninety degrees. Training kicking in, he manages to creep silently on the old steel flooring with his heavy combat boots. He pokes his head around the first corner, and spots no-one, just more corridor. The ceilings are higher, full of support beams and pipes. The ambient noise is no longer so vacant, occupied by the eerie creaking of the old structures swaying in the light breeze. And from people moving around somewhere, too. </p><p>He presumes. If not for that one patrol guard outside, it would appear that the whole place was empty. </p><p>Thor reaches to his ear again. “I’m inside,” he whispers. There is no reply. “Steve?” He taps the earpiece, checking that it’s actually on. Still no reply. Worriedly, he drops to his knee and pulls out the phone, but there isn’t any signal on that either. That’s a mild relief. Better than something having happened to Steve. Which is silly. Steve is home safe with Tony. </p><p>Communication is severed for the time being. Thor puts the phone away and carries on, listening out for hostiles. First things first, he needs to look for a security tower. HYDRA will have occupied this place with cameras – in fact, Thor spots one installed up ahead. Once Tony hijacks the cameras, though, he’ll be able to show them that he’s alright. </p><p>Thor picks his way around the blind spot of the camera and through the unlocked door.  </p><p>The place certainly looks abandoned, and it’s been left that way as much as possible to avoid drawing attention. The few lights that are on, flickering and stained though they are, are the major clue that someone has taken up residence here. That and the odd guard he passes. There aren’t many places to duck into, no alcoves or branching hallways, but Thor manages. He’s a big man, but he knows how to hide himself in the smallest of shadows, how to cross open spaces while he has the chance and take cover behind a corner or a doorway as necessary. The deeper he ventures, the more objects there are to hide behind, long-abandoned with the building; boxes, crates, more dilapidated machinery. And if HYDRA were to hide inside while trying to keep up pretenses that there was nothing here, they would most certainly keep to the center as much as possible, away from the walls. It’s safer that way, in case unwanted company shows up, providing time to rally a response. </p><p>By the time Thor gets to them, it will be too late for that. So far undiscovered, he hunts until he finds what he wants: the faint glow of computer screens shining through a window, that light flickering faintly as people move in front of it. Thor drops to his knee behind a corner where he can watch both ends of the corridor for approaching guards, and move back into the shadows to hide if he has to until his plan is formed. </p><p>Ideally, he won’t have to kill those men, but it will be difficult to have them leave the room without causing a ruckus. He can’t pick off a lone guard on patrol and swap uniforms so that he can relieve the surveillance team of their duties, because they’ll recognize him. Long-time HYDRA members and new recruits alike will know his face. </p><p>Elimination it is. Thor checks his gun and his surroundings. No guards patrolling nearby, but a camera near the door that he can’t avoid. He’ll have to be fast so that no alarms can be raised. Thor breaks into a run, utilizing his large body to cover the distance, dash past the camera, and burst straight into the room before the men can react. They’re tired, still slumped in their chairs when Thor enters. They straighten, startled, but it’s too late – two neat shots, and the men fall. Thor holsters his weapons and quietly shuts the door behind him, rolling his shoulder. He walks around the desk to face the grid of screens and pulls the bodies off their chairs, rolling them under the desk to hide. </p><p>“Okay, Tony,” he murmurs, pulling out the USB given to him and plugging it into the first available port he can find. A faint flicker ripples across the grid, barely noticeable. Thor smiles, confident that the job is done. He takes a quick stock of what he can see; a few guards on patrol here and there, but not much else. Wherever the hostages are being held, there aren’t any cameras stationed there. </p><p>With nothing else to be gained here, Thor walks back out and shuts the door behind him, giving a thumbs-up to the camera in the hallway as he passes it. He hopes Steve can see it. There’s no way of knowing whether or not he can, not while he’s severed from all communication. Thor tests his earpiece again just to make sure, but he’s still not getting any signal through it. </p><p>Thor walks a little more easily now, still watching for cameras but not wasting any time sneaking by them. He turns a few more corners, strides down a few more wide and dingy corridors, noting that parts of the floor have been scuffed shiny where many pairs of feet have converged on a single doorway. Thor inspects the double doors, wrapping his hand cautiously around the handle and pulling lightly to test if it’s locked. </p><p>It isn’t. Cautiously, Thor pushes the door open just enough that he can slip inside. Beyond is what looks like the main storage room, three stories high. Steel mesh stairs lead to upper levels where more old supplies is stocked, stretching back into the shadows. This must be the center of the maze. Across from him is another set of huge doors, large enough for transport trucks to dock, and probably did when this place was operational. So it’s not quite in the middle, but against the wall opposite where he entered. Thor ducks behind some shelving to watch the couple of guards standing by the steel staircase that leads into the rafters, talking between themselves nonchalantly, postures at ease, weapons lowered. In the large empty floorspace centered among the few shelves and ventilation equipment stationed around the perimeter, there’s no-one. No hostages. </p><p>Back out, then, and down. Thor backs away, toward the way he came, keeping an eye on the guards as he goes. Something moves in the corner of his eye, to his left in the dense shadows of the unlit storage area. He turns to face it and draws his weapon in case the third guard roaming the shelves has spotted him, but someone drops on top of him from above and tackles him to the floor. </p><p>Both men are on him, wrestling him to the floor while one of them jams a syringe into his shoulder. His limbs are jelly before he can make much use of them, his tongue rubber before he can shout, and his brain clouded before he can wonder where he went wrong. </p><p>-- </p><p>“It’s been a while.” </p><p>“Not long enough...” Thor groans, not needing his vision to clear to know that’s how he feels about whoever is standing over him. He attempts to yank at his bonds, but it ends up being more of a shuffle; whatever they’ve injected him with is still in his system, not allowing him much coordination. He knows his bonds are tight, though, wrists taped behind his back, more tape around his shoulders and chest, and around his ankles to secure his legs to the chair. It’s a steel chair. </p><p>“Let’s try this again,” the man says, taking a step closer and lifting Thor’s head by the chin. “We’ll start with you, this time. I bet they thought catching Rogers first was the better plan, let you panic to rescue him and run right into their trap. Seems they misjudged.” </p><p>He knows that voice. It’s been a long time, but the moment he looks up he can match the name. “Rumlow.” </p><p>“Flattered you remember me,” Rumlow says. “I’ve been looking forward to this.” </p><p>Thor resists the urge to roll his eyes, but he can’t help the sigh he lets out. <em> Oh god. </em> The last time he had a conversation like this was with Rollins, one of Rumlow’s ... cohort. Thor has some idea of what’s to come, but he’s too drugged to formulate much of a response, so he just sits there in polite silence to listen. <em> Do go on. </em> </p><p>“Lots of my guys wanted the privilege of having you, and I might share... But only a little,” Rumlow happily goes on, clearly elated. “I had lots of time to think about what I want to do to you.” </p><p>“Night’s young,” Thor mumbles before he can stop himself, but luckily his tongue is so swollen that it’s unintelligible. </p><p>“We’ll have to hold off for a little while though.” Rumlow lets go of Thor’s head to look at his watch. “We have to wait for our other guests.” </p><p><em> Steve. </em> Thor does his best not to tense up, to let his body hang in his restraints. Begging won’t change anything, will only sweeten this for the enemy. And he won’t give them a lick of pleasure. </p><p>“He’s not in the hospital, is he,” Rumlow surmises. “They said you were there with him. Where is he?” </p><p>Thor shrugs, letting his eyelids hang heavily. <em> You drug me, I’m going to make this difficult for you. That’s your fault. </em> </p><p>"I like this new look,” Rumlow notes as he grabs a handful of hair and loosens it from the ponytail, yanking upward and forcing eye contact. “Where is he?” </p><p>Again, Thor shrugs. HYDRA has rather shown their hand by letting him on to the fact that they want to torture him in company. He has some time. Time to do what...? <em> Get out, of course. Idiot. Escape, somehow... </em> These aren’t twist-ties he can snap or ropes he can somehow slip off. They aren’t cuffs he can pick either. There’s no wiggle-room in the layers of tape, no way he could possibly unravel it on his own. Not from this angle. </p><p>Rumlow throws Thor’s head back down in frustration. “Fine. We’ll wait. Somebody will come looking for you soon. You thought you were being sneaky, didn’t you. Clever. You’re nothing without us. SHIELD is pathetic without its backbone.” He spits on the floor between Thor’s boots. </p><p><em> That’s not what Rollins</em><em>would say, </em> Thor thinks, smiling drunkenly to himself. <em> Rollins lost. I killed him. And you should have seen the shape I was in when I did it. </em> </p><p>“Something funny?” Rumlow demands, spotting the swell of Thor’s cheeks even from here. “Wherever your fuck-toy is hiding, we’ll find him. And when we’re done with him, we’re going to hurt him. Once we’re done with you, of course.” </p><p>Thor lifts his head with some effort and lets it flop back, so he can look Rumlow in the eyes. “If.” </p><p>“We’ll find him,” Rumlow snorts, showing teeth with his lopsided grin of confidence. Misplaced. “Even those incompetent bounty-hunters managed to catch him. He’s injured now. We’ll find him, and catch him again.” </p><p>“He ‘scaped before,” Thor replies, slurring slightly but smiling. “He’s’smarter than you.” Steve is so smart. Sexy.  </p><p>“No amount of intelligence will help him with a well-placed bullet,” Rumlow reasons. “It wouldn’t take much. We wouldn’t have to shoot him in both knees. Just one would do. Watch him think his way out of that one.” </p><p>“Outsmarted you before,” Thor goes on, unable to stop himself. “And again, and again...” And even when Steve couldn’t think his way out of a problem, he could brave and fight his way out instead. Steve is stronger than they know. <em> Steve’s leg is broken... </em> What if they <em> do </em> find him? How is he supposed to run away? That leg alone will impede him a great deal. Perhaps fatally. <em> They won’t find him. Tony is with him. Tony will help. And they still have Coulson at the station. </em> </p><p>Rumlow doesn’t seem worried. “He’s not a soldier like you. You may be able to resist pain, but he can’t. Even if we hurt you instead, he’ll fold.” </p><p>“We’ll’see,” Thor raises his eyebrow, even though he knows that Rumlow is probably right: strong as he may be, Steve’s only training is what Thor has given him. And Thor certainly hasn’t taught Steve how to resist torture. </p><p>“We will.” At least they can agree on that. “Oh, and one more thing before I go.” Rumlow strikes before Thor can react, even though he sees the punch coming. It connects with his cheek bone, but he’s so drugged that he’s incapable of tensing in preparation. It helps, honestly. What kind of agent would he be if he couldn’t take a punch? Granted, it’s been a while since he took a proper malicious blow, but this is not the hardest strike he’s ever felt. </p><p>It’s the disruption that makes him feel ill. As Rumlow stomps away and leaves an armed guard to watch over him, Thor swallows rising nausea and focuses very hard on not throwing up. </p><p>For all the planning they did, every precaution taken, it wasn’t enough. Thor tips his head forward again. He’s lucky, really. Lucky he wasn’t shot on-sight. Once again, Steve is keeping him safe, even over this distance. No, Steve’s not built the same way Thor is, doesn’t have the same training, but he’s resourceful, intelligent. <em> He’ll get help, somehow. He and Tony would have seen them take me past at least one surveillance camera. </em> Thor is not alone, and neither is Steve. He takes a deep breath and focuses on coming down from whatever drug they gave him.  </p><p>His vest is gone, along with his belt, and all the weapons kept in his pockets. Except for one pocket, whose contents is pressed into his hip. It’s a small pocket, on the inside of the waistband. No wonder it got missed... Frankly Thor forgot he put the ring in there, would have left it at home had he remembered. But it’s too late now. Thor shifts his leg so he can feel its pressure more securely. Soon, that ring will be on Steve’s finger where it belongs. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>#hacking</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The battle between two competing emotions is a close one: watching Thor leave is a terrifying thing, knowing that he might get hurt, might die, but at the same time the sight of him geared up is incredibly arousing. Reason demands that anxiety wins – Steve can admire Thor later, when he’s home and safe. But with will-power, Steve forces both feelings aside so that he can focus on the mission. There’s nothing he can do to help other than pay attention. </p><p>Frankly, it’s a privilege they allowed him to help at all. In the end, he opted not to take his pain meds in favor of staying sharp. The pillow braced against his chest is enough. Steve makes sure everything is ready for when Thor lets them into HYDRA’s surveillance system, nervously typing useless commands into the command prompt, just so he has something to do. </p><p>Thor’s little updates give him some comfort, and he makes sure to reply with confirmations, hoping that his voice gives some comfort in return. Thor is capable. He’s already proven that he’s still a powerful agent when he took down those men in the ambulance.  </p><p>“Here.” Tony appears at his side with a glass of water. “I know you probably don’t want to drink too much, but at least a little.” </p><p>Yes, getting to the bathroom would be no swift feat, and though he’s sure Tony can handle this on his own, Steve still doesn’t want to be away from the computer just in case. “Thanks,” he smiles gratefully, taking the glass and having a sip. At least it gives him something to do. </p><p>“Here, look,” Tony sits and points to a window on his screen, a map with a moving blip on it. “I put a tracker in Thor’s phone.” </p><p>Steve leans over to have a look, and it brings him some relief to know that he can have his eye on his boyfriend even from here. It’s by no means a full relay of vital-signs and visuals, but it’s something. </p><p>Since Fury and the other agents are being monitored by HYDRA, the best they can do is strategically allow snippets of information through their connection, enough to allow the two programmers to track where they are. It’s not until the helicopter touches down that the communication line is cut off mid-sentence. </p><p>“Fury?” Steve taps out a status command on the prompt. “Anybody?” The prompt returns a ‘no signal’ for all channels. </p><p>“They cut out,” Tony says, typing out his own tests. “Looks like something’s blocking the signal.” </p><p>“Thor?” Steve tries, but he doesn’t get any reply from him, either. Both friends look at the tracking window to see that the red blip is still moving, flickering faintly as it approaches a building outlined on the map. It flickers and disappears. </p><p>“Signal-blockers,” Tony confirms quickly, resuming his typing. “Something’s making a barrier.” </p><p>“Is it damping the waves, or redirecting?” Steve asks, turning himself toward Tony’s screen. </p><p>“Redirecting, it looks like,” Tony replies without taking his eyes off the lines of code he’s furiously typing. </p><p>That’s better than blocking the signal altogether. It means they can cut their way into the system, shut down whatever program is being run to send the signals somewhere else. Steve takes out his earpiece and switches it off for now, trying his own series of commands to explore the issue, taking his other arm off his chest to type faster. </p><p>“What are you trying?” Steve asks. </p><p>“I’ll see if I can break down the barrier first.” </p><p>“Okay, I’ll try to re-route then.” Steve fires off a few more exploratory lines of code, hoping to diagnose the issue more intimately. This certainly seems like a deliberate safe-guard rather than a happy accident in HYDRA’s favor. No, this is pre-meditated, prepared. </p><p>“Hey, Steve,” Tony taps his shoulder and points to his screen, where a dialog box has popped up. A loading bar fills up, and the monitor wills with a grid of broadcasts – the security footage. </p><p>“He’s in,” Steve smiles, looking between the camera feeds until Thor appears in one of them, looking straight into it and waving. He’s okay. Steve find himself offering a thumbs-up, even though he knows Thor can’t see him. </p><p>“We’ve got to find some way to let Fury know when the hostages are out,” Tony says, swapping to the other computer so the cameras feeds won’t be obscured by his work.  </p><p>“I can’t get around the barrier,” Steve says with a shake of his head. “We’ll have to try something else.” </p><p>“Let me see if I can get in through the security system,” Tony replies confidently, getting straight to work. </p><p>“That’s a good idea,” Steve agrees. “I’ll keep trying the re-route just in case.” Thor’s okay. There aren’t many guards in the building, either, by what he can tell from the security feed. That may change near the hostages, which aren’t displayed on this feed, but Thor is clever. He’ll find a way to get them out. Until then, they have a little time to reinstate communications. </p><p>HYDRA has upped their game since they last exchanged digital blows. Not enough to keep both Steve and Tony out, though – if that were true, then why would they feel the need to capture both of them, alive no-less? <em> Alive is preferred, not a guarantee, </em> Steve reminds himself. <em> And you can still survive having your legs blown off. </em> There’s a lot a person can survive. Thor was shot in the chest, and he’s out somewhere in the mountains right now, not much less dangerous than he was prior. How much could Steve get away with if he put himself in the line of fire? Within reason of course, if it could help solve this malignant problem. </p><p>His mother would smack him for thinking such things. And Thor would cut him right off before he could finish the suggestion. </p><p>Steve tables those thoughts in favor of what he’s just found: a possible in, some promising results from his digging. He’s extracting files, reading them from the command prompt. He writes a quick code and sends it back, disabling part of the blocking code. He’s about to tell Tony that he’s got it when his friend beats him to it and turns his laptop with urgency. </p><p>“Steve,” Tony says, pointing at the screen. </p><p>Steve looks just in time to spot the two burly men dragging Thor’s limp body down the hallway, past the camera, and through a set of doors. “They got him,” he breathes. “Tony, they got him!” It almost doesn’t seem real, but those are Thor’s boots disappearing off-screen. Steve doesn’t look away until there’s nothing more to see, staring then at Tony. </p><p>“I know,” Tony replies with a steadying hand. “I know. Oh god, okay...” He turns back to his work and types in a few hasty commands. </p><p>Calm. He has to be calm. This is what he’s here for, to help. <em> They have him. They got him, somehow. They’ll hurt him, kill him! </em> Steve looks back at his computer, and his mind feels blank. <em> Come on Rogers, think. </em>There has to be something he can try. Thor held it together for him, to find him and then keep him safe when he was lying broken in the back of the ambulance, enemies in pursuit. Thor held it together when they had to make a sudden escape from the hospital. Thor’s hasn’t lost his cool once. </p><p>Steve will hold it together for Thor now. Tony’s here too, but Steve has to give all that he’s capable of. </p><p><em> We promised. </em> Steve tries the next series of commands, trying not to type so desperately and get himself under control. <em> Calm </em>. He tries to channel what Thor has embodied for him in a crisis before, what Steve himself has channeled before when he needed to. Calm isn’t going to work, but anger just might – Steve glowers at the screen, finding a thread of rage and yanking it up. He ties it over the panic and harnesses himself steady with it. What if Fury and the others have been taken down too? What if he and Tony are their only hope? </p><p>“No signal,” Tony says, putting his phone away. “I can’t get through to the police. They’re blocking it.” He throws his phone on the table and launches back into his onslaught on HYDRA’s system. </p><p>“Here,” Steve points at his screen, at the breakthrough he was about to announce. “This, maybe.” He checks another couple of stats. </p><p>Tony slides his chair closer to look. “You’re a genius.” </p><p>“<em> You’re </em> the genius,” Steve shakes his head. Another day, he’d have smiled. “What now?” </p><p>“Overwhelm their processor,” Tony suggests immediately. “Whatever algorithms they’ve got running are smart. They’re adapting to keep me from doing much.” </p><p>Steve writes a short but simple script and sends it back, something that will keep even a computer busy – an infinite loop of complex math. It’s not much, but so long as he’s faster than the algorithm that’s all that matters. Seconds make the difference </p><p>Tony’s right: it works. The computer can’t keep up with him now, too busy performing purposeless trigonometry and lengthy integrals. Steve breaks through the barrier, hijacking the entrance point from Tony’s linked computer and merging into HYDRA’s system. Delete the right code, and that should be all. Steve rolls himself backward just enough to make room, gesturing to the laptop and looking up at his friend. “Go ahead. This is your specialty.” Tony is better at this sort of thing, and time is of the essence. </p><p>Tony doesn’t argue, taking Steve’s place and starting the search of the directories. Without access to the visual interface of HYDRA’s computer, they’ll have to do it through the command prompt. Not a problem. Tony finds a series of promising-looking scripts almost immediately, inspecting them one at a time until he finds the one he needs. </p><p>“This one,” he announces, and types in the necessary code to terminate the program. “That should do it.” </p><p>They wait impatiently as the prompt processes the command and sends it back to HYDRA’s processors. When it’s finished, the prompt asks for confirmation. </p><p>“Yes, yes,” Tony types and enters. </p><p>The screen goes black. The two friends stare in silence at their short-line-up of computers, the other two blinking out shortly behind the first. </p><p>Black, apart from a small blinking green dot in the bottom corner. </p><p>Tony hits enter again, then escape, then any other sequence he can think of. Nothing works. He tries the power button, but that doesn’t work either. Steve leans out of his chair and pulls the plug. It’s too late, but it’s something. Tony runs around the table and unplugs the other two computers. He flips over both laptops and pulls out the batteries. </p><p>It’s too late now. Steve swallows dryly and tries his earpiece, but it’s still dead. </p><p>“We need to get out of here,” Tony says frantically. </p><p>“How?” Steve asks, glancing at his leg as he wheels himself after Tony to the landing. “We don’t have a vehicle. Not one with an engine anyway.” He gestures his chair. </p><p>“I’ll find one,” Tony says, putting on his jacket and boots in a hurry. “Stay here, okay? There are other houses nearby. I’ll hotwire a car if I have to. I’ll be right back.” </p><p>Steve nods and throws his pillow off to the side, rolling back into the kitchen to watch the computers. He removes the USB and puts it in his pocket, then he wheels around to the counter and takes hold of it. With a grunt of effort, he pulls himself standing, cautiously testing his weight on his broken leg. It hurts, but with the counter’s help he can hobble around without straining it too badly. He won’t be able to go fast, but he can walk a little if he needs to, if he has something to lean on. Steve takes some deep breaths and braces his ribs with his arm, leaning his weight off his leg to save it for if he needs it. </p><p>“Oh god...” he murmurs, looking out the kitchen window into the snowy night. “Thor...” Everyone else, too, but at least they’re together. Thor is all alone. </p><p>They should have come up with a better plan. <em> What options did we have? They have civilian hostages. We have me to worry about. </em> Steve winces and sits back in his chair, lifting his leg onto the foot-rest. It feels better elevated. Anxious, he rolls himself to the bedroom to get his pills. Thor left them on the nightstand in case he needed them, and he does. He will, if he needs to push his pain aside. Will-power isn’t going to cut it. Steve takes his pills to the kitchen table and swallows his normal dose with water, putting the bottle in his pocket. </p><p>If only he hadn’t broken his goddamn leg... Steve slumps in the chair and covers his face, rubbing his eyes and breathing as slowly as he can. Is this what life is going to be like from now on? HYDRA-and-friends kidnap them one at a time and they take turns rescuing each other until one of them dies? Until one of them is too slow and ends up caught too? Then they can <em> watch </em> each other die. The rest of Steve’s entire circle of friends and family won’t be far behind. Everyone he cares about is at risk. Steve would do anything to swap places with Thor, to be the one currently in custody, because at least Thor has the skill to rescue him. </p><p>What does Thor have? <em>Fury probably doesn’t know, unless HYDRA told him, which would mean he’s captured too. Along with everyone else. Coulson might know, but he can’t make a move and bring the police until the hostages are free. Maybe they’ve started killing hostages already.</em> What if all Thor has is Steve and Tony? Two programmers, one of which can’t even fucking <em>walk</em> –  </p><p>Snow crunches outside. Steve lifts his head and rises out of the wheelchair to look out the kitchen window. A black SUV is pulling up in front of the house, parking, lights switching off. It’s not Tony who gets out though, but three armed men. Eyes widening, Steve scrambles. They’re close, and he has nowhere to go. The backdoor is too far away, and so is the bedroom even if he wheels himself there. They’re approaching the door, and he has nowhere to hide. <em> They found us. They traced our location when we hacked their system. </em> Steve slips under the table as gracefully as he can, landing harder than he meant to on his ass. </p><p>It’s his damn leg that stops him from curling up and hiding properly, but hiding here should give him a second or two, however futile that may prove. <em> Every second counts. Never surrender. </em> Steve breathes through the wave of pain he caused himself, backing up on his hands and pushing with his left leg, dragging his broken one on the laminate. The door opens, and he holds still, watching two pairs of feet enter the room while the third remains outside to guard. </p><p>“They’re in here somewhere,” one man says gruffly to the other, shutting the door behind them. “Search.” </p><p>Running isn’t an option. Steve watches and listens closely, wishing he’d grabbed a kitchen knife, <em> something </em> to use as a weapon. </p><p>One man walks off into the house, while the other enters the kitchen to inspect what’s on the table, prowling closer and closer. He walks down the side of the table in heavy boots, stepping past the wheelchair. He pauses, and Steve knows he’s about to look under. </p><p>With a spur of courage and determination, Steve rolls onto his hip and spins his leg around as hard as he can, grunting with the effort it takes to fling his injured leg in a circle. It’s worth it though, because his solid, heavy cast cracks the man in the back of the ankle. With a startled cry, the man loses his balance and falls backward, dropping his gun. Steve grabs it and rolls away from the man, shoving to his feet and throwing the table off of himself, and onto the enemy. </p><p>The man is already on the ground, bleeding from the back of his head and completely still beneath the upturned table. He’s not breathing. </p><p>Panting, Steve balances himself before he falls over too. He stumbles backward so he can lean on the counter, just as the second man rounds the corner with his weapon raised. Steve raises his right back, squinting and breathless. </p><p>“Put it down, kid,” the man orders roughly. “Drop it.” </p><p>“You drop it,” Steve huffs. </p><p>“You ever shot someone before?” </p><p>“There’s always a first.” </p><p>“You ever been shot?” </p><p><em> Sorta. </em> It was only a graze, but it hurt. He can’t imagine what it would be like to have a bullet enter his body. Actually he can, because he was with Thor every step of the way when <em> he </em> got shot, twice. Steve keeps the gun raised. </p><p>Calling his bluff, the man rushes him, and Steve hesitates. Before he can decide to pull the trigger, the weapon is already being smacked out of his hand, and he’s being roughly shoved into the counter. </p><p>It hurts his ribs more than anything. Steve grunts under the impact and goes down in the struggle against the trained agent. He can’t find purchase with his broken leg, and it slides out from under him on the laminate with one strong shove. The landing is less than pleasant, knocks the wind out of him and jostles his bruised chest. The agent swings a fist meant to incapacitate, but Steve somehow manages to raise his arm and block it. His training kicks in. </p><p>The agent holsters his weapon and grabs his wrist to hold it down, digging his knee into Steve’s hip while he winds up for another blow. Even without his glasses, Steve can see strike coming, and it’s so fast he almost doesn’t roll away in time. He pulls his shoulder off the floor and turns away from the strike meant to knock him out. </p><p>Steve keeps twisting and pulls his arm free, shoving his body up and under the agent with all his strength and slamming him against the cupboard doors. It’s not as strong as it could be, but those protruding handles have to hurt. The agent actually lets out a sound of pain, but he’s already wrapping his arm around Steve’s chest and squeezing. Steve digs his foot into the floor and shoves him into the cupboard again, harder this time, and the arm loosens. One more shove, and Steve clambers to his feet. Leaning backward against the counter top, he kicks his casted heel into the man’s face with a crack, receiving a yelp in return. </p><p>The agent has been going easy on him, pitying him maybe. Steve slides away from grabbing hands and snatches the laptop cable left by the toaster, calculating by his attacker’s bloody, vengeful face that that will no longer be the case. The agent gets up, his nose clearly broken, and stalks forward, threatening a reconsideration to shoot by the hand inching closer to his belt where the weapon is holstered. </p><p>One bullet, and this is over. Even in the leg, a non-fatal hit, and he’s not sure he could keep going. </p><p>“What are you gonna do? Plug me in?” the man sneers once he’s spit out a mouthful of blood. </p><p>Steve shuffles the cable in his sweaty hands. If he had another leg to stand on, he could utilize his long legs and kick that gun away. He shuffles the adapter box closer to one hand, sliding a shaky step backward. </p><p>The movement has the desired effect: the man wastes time laughing at him. </p><p>Steve balances himself very carefully, leaning forward on his good leg and swinging the cable around. The weight of the adapter carries it around the man’s neck, and Steve takes hold of the other end again, pulling. He turns himself against the counter so he can lean back on it and pull with all his might. Sometimes he forgets how strong he is. Thor has worked him into a powerhouse. </p><p>The agent stumbles into Steve’s chest with a strangled sound. Steve holds both ends of the cable in one hand and pulls down, arching his back so he can swing his hips up and crack the man in the face with his knee. He rips the gun out of the man’s loose fingers and lets go of the cable, kicking him back far enough that they’re perfectly positioned for Steve to crack him in the head with the gun. The agent collapses, bleeding and unconscious. </p><p>The third agent has already entered the house amidst the chaos. Steve fumbles to grip the gun properly, determined this time to shoot, but by the time he’s aiming the barrel the man is upon him. </p><p>A meaty hand grabs him by the wrist and twists hard enough to force his fingers to release the weapons. The man spins him around and puts him in an arm-bar, shoving him into the counter and bending him over it with a hand on his neck. Thick fingers squeeze off the arteries, preventing blood-flow to the brain while Steve’s panicked pulse beats against the pressure. He can already feel himself starting to slip, but he struggles as hard as he can. He kicks his good leg back, kicking as hard as he can from this angle, but it does nothing, so he tries hooking and pulling instead, but that doesn’t work either. He fumbles with his other hand, looking for a weapon to grabs, trying to pry the fingers off his neck, then his wrist, but he’s not strong enough from this angle, and the grip only tightens. His knees bang into the cupboards as he struggles, trying to lever himself backward. </p><p>The twist on his arm deepens and he groans into the counter, stilling his struggles. One hard yank is all it would take to pop his arm out of the socket, and the agent seems pretty tempted to do just that. </p><p>“<em> Hey! </em>” Somebody yells off to the side. The grip loosens for a moment, a split second before a loud banging sound follows and the hands are pulled away entirely.  </p><p>Steve unfolds his arm so he can hold the counter to avoid slipping right off, panting as the blood rushes back to his head. He manages to look up and see Tony, a lamp in his hand, standing over the unconscious body of the third agent. </p><p>Tony puts the lamp down, almost dropping it. He rushes over and puts his hand on Steve’s back. “Are you okay?” </p><p>Steve nods. “Nice hit.” He can see a smear of red from here, leaking from the back of the man’s head onto the laminate. </p><p>“Thanks,” Tony breathes, dragging up a chair and pushing it close so that Steve can turn and sit. “You took care of the rest...” </p><p>“Yeah, I did,” Steve agrees with a proud huff, looking at the three bodies collapsed on the floor. “Did you find a car?” </p><p>“Yup,” Tony says, kneeling down and rummaging in the third agent’s pockets. He holds up a key before pocketing it and walking over to the overturned table. He pushes it out of the way and brings the wheelchair over. “We should go. Before they wake up. Come on.” </p><p>“One sec” Steve says, holding up his hand and standing up, limping along the counter to the gun on the floor. Tony spots his trajectory and rushes over to pick it up for him, carefully offering it handle-first. Steve flicks on the safety and sets the weapon on the counter. “The radio,” he points to the unit clipped to the agent’s vest. </p><p>“Good plan,” Tony agrees, bending down to unclip it and pull out the earpiece. He gives the unit to Steve and nudges the wheelchair closer. “Sit, before you fall over.” </p><p>Steve obeys, carefully lowering himself into the chair and lifting his sore leg onto the footrest. Somebody is shouting through the earpiece. He puts it in his ear and listens. </p><p>“Report!” a man is demanding. </p><p>“We’ve got them,” Steve replies, deepening his voice. “On our way.” </p><p>“Took you long enough.” The line goes dead. </p><p>Steve takes out the earpiece and drops the radio in his lap, reaching up for the gun. Regardless of how well he knows how to use it, just like Thor taught him, it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t pull the trigger. No matter how badly he doesn’t want to kill anyone, he might have to. Hurt them, at least... He puts the thoughts out of his mind and looks up at his friend. “Plan?” </p><p>“Well, that’s got to come off,” Tony points at his cast. </p><p>“Tony-” </p><p>“We need to mount a rescue, right?” Tony says, bending down by the other two bodies to retrieve their weapons and hand them over. </p><p>Steve drops out the clips into his lap and discards the empty weapons as he frowns at his friend. “Yeah, we do...” It’s not that he’s against it, he just doesn’t know how much use he’ll be. </p><p>“HYDRA predicted this,” Tony remarks, robbing the agents of more gear. “They were ready for us. Means they probably know we’ll try to get help from the police.” </p><p>“Probably,” Steve agrees, slipping on the vest Tony gives him. “So what? We mount an attack on our own? How?” He gestures his leg. </p><p>“We do the unexpected,” Tony replies. “And we get your man back.” </p><p>“I'm with you," Steve says, “but again: how?” </p><p>“Like I said, we get that off,” Tony puts on his own vest and gives another nod to Steve’s leg. “HYDRA expects the unexpected, right?” </p><p>“It doesn’t matter whether they expect us or not if we don’t have a plan. Tony, I can’t walk. What am I supposed to do, roll my way there? I will if I have to, but we gotta think of something more practical.” Oh, Steve will drag himself up that mountain if he has to, roll through the corridors until he gets to Thor. Anything he has to do to get himself there, he’ll do it. Preferably though, he won’t get anyone killed in the process – Tony, Thor, the hostages, or himself. </p><p>“We’ll come up with something.” </p><p>“Do you know how to use a gun?” </p><p>“You can show me,” Tony shrugs. “Point and shoot, right? If I’m honest, I haven’t given this much thought. We can make it up as we go along.” He tosses Steve a flashlight and a pair of gloves. </p><p>“What about the hostages?” Steve asks, fiddling with the radio. They have some options, but not ideal ones. </p><p>“I’ll get them out,” Tony says. “I can to them. You get Thor.” </p><p>“Tony, even if we can get this off, I can’t walk.” Cumbersome it may be, but at least with the cast he can hold himself up on his leg. It’s awkward and painful, but he can somewhat walk. Without it, he’s not sure his leg will hold him. Even if it does, there’s a big difference between standing and walking, walking and <em> running </em>. “We just need to make sure our plan is good enough before he go charging in there.”  </p><p>“We’ll think of something,” Tony says, stripping a few more items off the agent and dumping them in Steve’s lap. </p><p>“How are you going to get it off, by the way?” If Tony had a saw, Steve would trust his steady-handed friend to cut the cast off, but they don’t. </p><p>“Hospital,” Tony explains, taking away the other two radios and bashing them with the heavy base of the lamp until they’re smashed beyond salvaging. He bends down and tightly cuffs the first two agents at the wrists behind their backs. The one who came in first he leaves, using the third pair of cuffs to connect the other two back-to-back. “There. Let’s go.” </p><p>The third man is definitely dead, and Steve feels mildly ill. </p><p>Tony gives him his coat and kneels to put the boot on Steve’s left foot. The other, he drops into Steve’s lap with the rest of his stuff. Then he wheels Steve out of the house and up to the black SUV. All their supplies he throws into the back-seat, then he helps Steve into the passenger side and adjusts the seat for him. “We’ll get him back,” he promises, folding up the wheelchair and tossing that in the back too. </p><p>“We will,” Steve agrees. Somehow... <em> I’m coming, Thor. </em> HYDRA will expect the unexpected, but not the impossible. <em> This is stupid. </em> But it’s the best they’ve got. <em> They’re </em> the best Thor’s got. Thor, the hostages, the other agents, their whole family. Two programmers, one of whom is severely limited mobility-wise. Not ideal for a rescue. </p><p>Not impossible, however. <em> So long as HYDRA thinks it is. So long as our arrival doesn’t even cross their minds. That’s step one. Step two is making a plan that gets everybody out of there alive. </em> Those men took one look at Steve and underestimated him. Now <em> that </em> is an advantage. No mistake, a broken leg is an overwhelming disadvantage, but there’s something to work with there, and Steve made due. He can make due again. </p><p>Tony climbs into the driver’s seat and starts the engine, backing away from the house and onto the road. After so many years of fighting HYDRA through a screen, it seems only right that it boils down to this, down to the two of them. Now might be a good time for Steve to decide what he’s prepared to do. The next time he hesitates could be his last. And some mental trauma is a price worth paying if it means HYDRA falls, and everyone else gets out, right? If he has to? Enough therapy and time and he could recover, but there’s no recovery from death. </p><p>Maybe if their plan is good enough, he won’t have to kill anyone. <em> Except for that man... Maybe think about that later. </em> His boyfriend, his family, and a whole lot of innocent people need his help. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Canada is great. Yes, I live here, and yes, I have seen horse-riding RCMP at the Tim Horton's. No horses were harmed in the making of this chapter.</p>
<p>Gay love prevails.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tony parks near the back of the lot, where there’s no chance of anyone catching a glance of the contents of their back seat even though it’s the middle of the night. He unfolds the wheelchair and helps Steve down into it. They leave their stolen weapons behind but bring Steve’s other boot, and Tony pushes Steve up to the entrance with purpose in his stride.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The plan is very simple, at least as much as they have. Steve lets himself slump in the chair as if he’s half asleep, watching under half-closed eyelids as Tony pushes him through the building. It’s not difficult to get past the night staff, security waving them into the in-patient area without question. On the way, Tony manages to grab a scrub shirt, and Steve snags a name badge off one of the night nurse’s uniforms while Tony chats with her.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve hides the badge in his coat and groans, rubbing his eyes wearily.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Well</span>
  <span> have a good night,” Tony rounds off the conversation. “I should get this one back to bed. Needed some fresh air, you know how it is.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good-night,” she replies, and walks away in the opposite direction. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony makes as if to head toward a room, but carries on when she’s out of sight. He follows the signs to orthopedics and uses the key-card where necessary. The clearance is enough to get them into the room. At this hour, it’s empty. Tony shuts the door quietly behind them and turns on the light, pushing Steve up to the table in the middle.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay pal,” he invites, lowering it with the controls.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve gets out of the chair and sheds his coat, sitting on the edge of the table and turning around with Tony’s help. His body aches worse than it did earlier. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The doctor isn’t going to be happy with me.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Surely the doctor will understand that this is life-or-death. Doing some damage to his leg now, even if it might be irreversible, is better that whatever HYDRA will do to Thor if given the opportunity.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hangs onto his chest and props himself sitting with the other arm while Tony raises the table to a good working height and slides off Steve’s </span>
  <span>pj</span>
  <span> bottoms.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ready?” Tony asks, easily finding the cast-cutter and plugging it in. He brandishes it and flicks the switch.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess...” Steve replies, staring at the rotating blade. “Careful...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re in the right place if this goes wrong,” Tony reassures, coming closer. “Hold still.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony is good with his hands, good with machinery. He wields the saw with enough confidence to put Steve’s hesitance at ease. With a steadying hand on Steve’s heel, he cuts into the fiber-glass, steadily shearing it apart from top to bottom. The cast comes apart without incident. Tony puts the saw away and gently lifts Steve’s leg out of the shell, cutting away the padding with some scissors.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both take a moment to fully absorb the sight of Steve’s badly bruised leg.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll think of something,” Tony reassures, putting down the scissors and lowering the table. He helps Steve put his pants back on and holds out his hands. “Just try.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Never-mind if it’s recommended – is he capable of walking? His leg already feels more fragile unsupported, the bone-deep throb more persistent. Tentatively, Steve allows Tony to help him off the table and sets his left leg down first, then slowly transferring some of his weight over.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not even been week, not nearly enough to make walking a useful distance viable, but at least he can take a couple of agonizing steps. Enough to work with. It hurts so badly, but he holds it in and thinks about how badly it hurt Thor to rescue him from HYDRA’s grasp at the London base, to fight off Rollins in the server room. Thor made due. So can Steve. He grits his teeth and refrains from telling his friend just how badly it hurts.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony’s smart and has known him a long time; sympathy and a touch of guilt cloud his features, as if this is his fault. As if he’s forcing Steve to walk on that leg. “Sit,” he says, guiding him to the wheelchair and helping him down into it.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How are we going to make it up there?” Steve asks, pushing the bandage off his head and throwing it in the bin by the door. He prods the tender mark on his temple, at the stitches his mother was supposed to cut out for him tomorrow morning – </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> morning now, technically.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony shrugs, looking in cupboards and on shelves for something that will help. “Working on it,” he replies.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t suppose you know how to fly a helicopter...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Something I’ve been meaning to learn. I should have taken that summer course while I had the chance,” Tony grunts, rummaging. “Not that I’d know where to steal one.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We can’t exactly drive up there.” Steve rubs his chin thoughtfully, rubbing his ribs with the other arm. No, the old delivery road up to the warehouse has been so long abandoned that nobody could drive it. “Snowmobile?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Probably our best bet,” Tony agrees, pulling out a cane and handing it over so he can bend down and put Steve’s boots on. “There’s a store in town.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Steve agrees, wincing as Tony lifts his foot to slide the boot on.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Brace?” Tony suggest. “We can look somewhere else-”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve shakes his head. “That’d hurt more. Let’s just go. I’ll be fine.” The straps would only put pressure on the damaged area. And the longer they spend here, the more they risk getting caught.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, if you say so...” Tony agrees. “Time to commit a robbery.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sure the authorities will understand,” Steve reassures as he’s pushed out of the room. He shrugs his coat back on and holds the cane, hoping it will be all the support he needs. Tony is right though: the cast had to go. It may have supported him, but it’s not exactly stealthy. Being able to fold his legs to hide could save his life, and this entire mission. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Made a good weapon though...</span>
  </em>
  <span> Thor will be so proud.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m coming baby.</span>
  </em>
  <span> And at a good speed, too – Tony doesn’t dawdle, jogging through the empty hospital.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They make it out without being seen, back to the parking lot. Steve turns his wheelchair to face the corner just up the road while Tony opens the passenger door for him. “Hey Tony?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Scratch our last idea.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony follows his gaze and they both look to the pair of uniformed men on horse-back, drinking out of paper cups as they look out across the night. “I love Canada,” Tony declares, shutting the passenger door and patting Steve on the back. “Gear up.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve feels a little bad about stealing from the authorities, but he knows they did what they had to. And it wasn’t that hard to get their hands on these horses – turns out the RCMP aren’t threatened at all by the approach of two nice young men out for a walk, one in the wheelchair, the other on the smaller side. Both with charming smiles and nice manners, greeting casually and pausing to chat.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Horseback is not a comfortable way to travel with broken ribs, but it’s an excellent way to travel up a snowy mountain-side with a broken leg. Steve leads the way, Tony following behind to keep an eye on his friend, the cane slid through a loop in his jeans for safe-keeping.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The horses are strong, their huffs fogging in the cold air and their strong flanks heaving. Suddenly he’s very grateful for the couple of times he got to learn how to ride a horse in the countryside at one of Loki’s properties a few years ago.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They pick their way up the flattest, clearest parts of the mountain, guiding the horses safely toward the planed area where the warehouse is built. It still takes time, but by no means as much as it would have taken on-foot. Once the warehouse comes into view, Steve warily reaches under his coat to his hip where his gun is holstered, looking around for anyone who might be on patrol. He’s grateful they don’t run into anyone, but that’s sure to change once they cross through that chain-link fence surrounding the warehouse.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stop their horses and let them rest, hiding among the thick foliage to watch. Steve squints in the darkness, doing his best to make out what details he can. He can just make out the shape of a person walking a patrol around the perimeter of the building inside the fence, but that’s about it.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“One guard on patrol,” Tony whispers, leaning closer. He pulls the cane out of his belt and hands it over. “Four loading bay doors for cargo trucks along one side. Probably more ways in around the building, employee entrances, that </span>
  <span>sorta</span>
  <span> thing. We’ll have to get past the fence first.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve tucks the cane under his arm and adjusts his position in the saddle, stroking the horse’s neck. The motion is grounding, and the swell of the animal’s flanks against his thighs helps him breathe more evenly as he recovers from the journey too. “We’ll just find where Thor went through. He didn’t climb it, that’s for sure.” Not with those barbs on top. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You better not have climbed it.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good plan,” Tony agrees. “Then we need a distraction, get HYDRA away from the hostages.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’ll know it’s a distraction,” Steve reasons. “Anything happens to get their attention, and they’ll go straight to the hostages.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Unless it’s a problem they can’t afford not to deal with.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like what? An explosion?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If only,” Tony huffs. “Sadly I didn’t bring the chemicals for that.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve tucks his hands under his armpits and braces his ribs with some pressure, staring out at the blurry world while he thinks of something. They’ve got a channel of communication right to HYDRA, but how do they draw the enemy away from the hostages and keep them there? It’s only Tony and Steve, and this is an old building, so it’s not like they can hack into the main control system and wreak havoc remotely while executing the rescue. “See any surveillance on the outside?” Steve asks.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“One camera mounted above the loading bay doors,” Tony says. “I might be able to access our program to shut it down, but I make no guarantees.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm,” Steve hums, sitting back in the saddle to think. “If you got inside, do you think you could cause some trouble?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Could I?” Tony scoffs. “This place is ancient. Limited fail-safes, easy to get into the breaker boxes...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then you start something,” Steve suggests. “We’re in their radio system, so we can send them on a chase, try to keep them out of our way. When you’re done, go get the hostages.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about you?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll look for Thor,” Steve replies, sitting a little taller in the saddle, searching for all the confidence he possesses. “If they have the chance to take me alive, they will. That’s enough of an advantage to get down to Thor. Between that and whatever disaster you can create, that should get you down to the hostages. If you can’t get out with them, I’ll come help when I have Thor. I’ll try to keep the attention on me.” What he wants to add is ‘and I’ll take as many of them down as I can’, but he can’t make himself commit to that, even though he knows it’s an us-or-them situation. No matter what, HYDRA falls today, and if not by Steve’s hand, then by someone else’s. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I just don’t want to have to do it.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>People might die if I don’t. The wrong people, I mean...</span>
  </em>
  <span> It’s hard to separate those two. HYDRA is </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad</span>
  </em>
  <span>, undeniably evil. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I can pay for therapy, but I can’t replace Thor. Or anyone else for that matter. Everyone is special to somebody.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Do those HYDRA soldiers have family? Friends? Steve tries not to think about it, but he can’t make himself dehumanize them, and he can’t make himself try harder.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Works for me,” Tony confirms, dismounting when the patrolling guard disappears behind the building. He ties his horse to a branch and walks along the fence, searching for the spot where Thor went through. Steve trots after him, keeping a look-out as well as he can. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They don’t have to go far before Tony discovers a sliced hole in the fence, large enough for a person, but not for a horse – and the horse is coming as far as it can fit. Walking around such a huge building, even with some idea of where Thor is, is too dangerous when there’s another option available. Steve rummages in his coat pockets for something to cut the hole a bit bigger, but Tony is already holding up a knife and a lighter. Where he got the lighter from is not a question Steve will bother asking.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony holds the blade against the wire and the heat to both, pushing upward. It takes a few long moments before the blade goes through, but it only takes a few cut wires to widen the hole enough for the horse to safely fit. Tony puts his tools away and checks for the guard before offering Steve his hands. Quietly as he can, Steve slides out of the saddle and lets Tony help him through the gap as fast as he can manage, ducking to hide behind the abandoned forklift. He watches for the guard while Tony leads the horse through, and hides the hole with pine fronds once more.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve manages to climb back into the saddle on his own, swinging his injured leg over and getting comfortable again. Tony hands him back his cane and they walk toward the building toward the door.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door is unlocked. Tony cautiously pulls it open, and Steve holds his gun ready, but the space beyond is empty. Quickly, they both hurry inside, Steve first, sitting sideways in the saddle to fit through the opening.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, you know the plan?” Steve looks down when the door is closed, making sure the stolen HYDRA radio is clipped to his vest and putting the earpiece into his deaf ear. The volume is high enough that he can hear it.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yup,” Tony agrees, patting his pockets where his supplies are kept – enough to cut the hostages free, and pick some locks along the way. “I’ll try to disable the signal blockers if I get the chance. Call me if you need help, okay?” He puts in his own earpiece.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Likewise,” Steve replies.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s go then.” Tony nods, turning on his radio. No more time to waste. He deepens his voice. “We have an attempted breach outside the loading bay.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sending backup,” comes the reply.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That should keep them busy until I give them something real to worry about,” Tony says with a grin. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some hostages to rescue.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“On your way,” Steve smiles back, comforted by his friend’s confidence and trying his best to emulate it. He sits up straight in the saddle and raises the gun. Together, they walk down to the end of the dim hallway, and split up.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The horse’s hooves clip-clop on the hard flooring. HYDRA can stop them at any moment by threatening the hostages, so the sooner Tony gets them out, the better. Therefore, they need to keep HYDRA busy. Very, very busy. And they have to be fast. Steve pushes the horse to a trot, wary that the animal might not have the best footing on such a surface. So far though, it doesn’t seem bothered.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve remembers some rough layout details from the security footage, enough to lead him in the right direction, and he can work from there. Turning his head, he alternates between listening ahead and behind with his good ear. HYDRA is currently running in the opposite direction, looking for the possible intruders, but some of them will head down to check on the hostages. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Divide and conquer.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Steve holds his cane in his left hand so he can shoot with his right, glad that his gloves are keeping his sweaty hands from slipping on the handle. He lays his finger over the trigger in preparation and holds his cane like a sword, ready to wield it unrestrained.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He only makes it the length of the corridor and turns a single corner before he hears footsteps approaching from ahead. Lowering his body for balance, he urges the horse into an easy canter, watching the shadows to prepare himself for the arrival of his enemies.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Two men appear around the next corner, weapons drawn, but their shock at the sight of the intruder atop a horse gives Steve enough time to react, and enough time to close the distance before they can decide to shoot. He whirls the cane in his hand and cracks the first man in the head, felling him with a single well-placed blow to the temple. Steve swipes down toward the base of the second man’s neck, but the HYDRA guard manages to block the hit. Not to worry – Steve is at the optimal height to lean sideways and kick his left foot from the stirrup, grabbing the saddle horn for balance as he snaps out a heel into the man’s face. Bone cracks under his heavy boot, and the man stumbles back. Steve sits back and swings the cane again, finishing the job.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The horse steps over the bodies and turns the corner, breaking back into the canter. Steve slips his left foot loosely back into the stirrup and checks behind him for more enemies. More people will be following, and anyone nearby will be drawn by the sound of hooves on the hard floor.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Steve has the advantage of speed and height and surprise. And that HYDRA isn’t inclined to kill him on-sight. If they were, Steve’s not sure he could employ his own shoot-on-sight mind-set that would be necessary to stay alive.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>So far, the firearm is hardly necessary. A small cluster of guards round the corner, weapons raised. Steve lowers his body further and holsters his gun so he can hang onto the saddle, nudging the horse in the flanks to ask it to run. In these restricted hallways, there isn’t much space, and even trained agents flinch a little at the sudden sight of a charging horse where one shouldn’t be. They recover, or course, and raise their weapons, but Steve’s not about to let them shoot the horse, either. He veers it sideways with a small tug of the reins, slamming the closest man into the wall. He falls, tangled in hooves.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve turns the horse away from the wall and into the rest of the men, getting a tighter grip on the saddle so he can put his body into the force of his swings. One man is aiming his gun at the horse’s leg, wisely deciding it’s a better strategy than to aim at the rider. Steve snatches the cane into his other hand and swings outward, catching the handle on the man’s elbow. The gun fires, but it misses the horse entirely, hitting the wall instead.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Startled and confined, the horse rears, kicking out its front legs and nailing another agent in the chest with a strong hoof. A bullet-proof vest isn’t enough to protect from that. Steve grips with his legs and holds on, desperate not to be thrown off, to urge the horse forward so that it brings its front legs down on another man who has nowhere to go. The last one trips over his fallen colleague, and the horse tramples him as Steve carries forward. He leaves the agents in various levels of consciousness groaning on the floor, and rides on.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can hear one of the men he trampled croaking into the radio for backup. Steve gallops on, slowing for the next corner so they don’t crash into the wall, then coming to a stop – the sound of hooves over his transmission may give him away.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rogers is in the building,” the agent wheezes over the radio. “In Quadrant C.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s turning South!” Steve adds gruffly. No-one is close enough to hear him. “I see him.” He ends his transmission and turns South-East, patting the horse on the neck. Seemingly unbothered by the whole ordeal, the animal carries him bravely down another corridor. These corridors don’t seem that long on horse-back.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>And if he’s not mistaken, he recognizes that door, and more importantly the label above it. It’s the door that Thor was dragged past in the surveillance footage. Steve doesn’t give it a moment’s pause and carries on, listening for anything important over the radio. They’re on the chase, but off by ninety degrees, thinking he’s running away from where Thor’s been taken. Steve rounds another corner, and reacts so fast to the man running the other way that Steve’s punch connects before the enemy has the chance to react. It takes a second punch to bring him down, unconscious.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The horse slows to a stop at the end of the corridor, facing a stairwell. Steve looks to the side and spots an elevator. He presses the button with his cane and turns the horse around, backing it through the doors. They close with a soft ding, and Steve flips the cane in his hand so he can more accurately select the correct floor. The lowest one, he reasons. The box starts to descend.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nervously, the horse paws at the floor and tosses </span>
  <span>its</span>
  <span> head.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, it’s okay,” Steve says softly, patting its neck. “I owe you after this. You deserve a promotion, and a medal.” Do they give medals to horses? He hopes so. “You did so good.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The horse settles, snorting softly and shifting its hips. Steve keeps stroking, unzipping his jacket while he has the chance. The box stops moving, and he straightens, spinning the cane to hold it handle-down again, and drawing the gun. The doors slide open.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s nobody. Cautiously, Steve urges the horse to walk out of the elevator, looking back and forth. Even the horse is swiveling its ears, listening. It can see and hear better than Steve can, and right now those ears are pointed right.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>So Steve goes right.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s much dimmer down here, eerie. Steve can’t see that well without the shadows swallowing what he </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> make out, but so </span>
  <span>far</span>
  <span> the area appears uninhabited. The horse agrees, not drawn toward any small sounds or movements that Steve can’t pick up on. This is turning out to be an excellent strategical choice. Steve hopes the horse gets a lot of carrots for this.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s only one sign of life, the sign the horse must have initially heard, one that Steve can hear too now that he’s closer. It’s the sound of raised voices, the sound of a blow being struck. There’s a crack of light under a doorway. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re here,” someone growls. “You called them.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“From here?” someone else snorts – Thor. “How?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another strike, flesh on flesh. “You tell me,” the other man snaps. “Games are over. I’m very tempted to get a head-start with you. For revenge.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For fuck’s sake, Rumlow. You said that already. And I’m flattered you think I’m smart enough to coordinate a rescue from here-”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another blow.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve stops before the door. With tentative pressure, he presses the push bar with his cane, and the door clicks – unlocked. There’s only one thing to it: Steve tightens his grip and urges the horse forward. It lunges forward with surprising eagerness, and Steve shoves the door open so that it can burst straight into the room.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s an oblong room, the door at one corner on the long side, all the lights on, and two people at the other end. One of those people is Thor, taped to a chair. Breathing, awake, some bruises on his face, but otherwise in good shape as far as Steve can tell. There’s a tray of tools beside him, and a man looming over him, blade in-hand raised mid-threat.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve doesn’t hesitate, but </span>
  <span>Rumlow</span>
  <span> does, reaching for his gun. He starts to draw it, and Steve knows where that barrel is going to be pointed. He knows that the instant Thor finds himself in the trajectory of a bullet, this is all over. The fight ends when that happens, and Thor is in no position to move out of the way on his own. </span>
  <span>So</span>
  <span> Steve raises the gun in his hand as the horse canters closer, and shoots. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t you dare</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he barks without thinking. He doesn’t need to see much detail to aim at the steadily-sharpening blob in front of him, and the bullet strikes </span>
  <span>Rumlow</span>
  <span> in the shoulder, eliciting a grunt of pain and a falter. The HYDRA agent drops his gun.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve is already up close, swinging the cane around yet again for another devastating blow.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A hand flies up in time to block, rolling to grab the cane by the shaft and pull. A cruel face sneers at him, knife-hand lifting up. Steve holsters the gun as he kicks his right foot free of the stirrup, twisting and leaping out of the saddle. On the ground he wouldn’t manage one of Thor’s well-taught take-downs, but starting up high he can: Steve swings his injured leg over the horse’s neck and pushes off with his hand, freeing his left leg just in time to avoid twisting it. He pulls himself closer with the cane and wraps his right leg around the Rumlow’s neck, toppling him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They go down, falling away from the horse by Steve’s design. Steve lands on his shoulder as he’s practiced a thousand times and rolls, tightening his leg even though it hurts and smacking the agent onto to hard ground. In the tumble, the knife is dropped.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve moves to kick it, but a hand is grabbing his other ankle and squeezing. Physically unable to maintain the pressure, Steve cries out and allows his leg to be removed and the man to slip his neck free. The horse nervously dances out of the way, lost for direction.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I knew you’d come crawling to us eventually,” Rumlow smirks, neatly turning onto one knee and reaching for his knife. “Express delivery. I was getting tired of waiting.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Steve-” Thor starts, worried.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve cuts him on with the growl he directs at his current opponent, the man he has to beat to put an end to this and go home. At least for now. And that means it has to stay on the ground, because Steve can’t stand up. He snatches up his cane and swipes it out before the HYDRA agent can stand, hooking it into his belt and yanking him back down.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The agent falls forward, knife plunging down. Steve turns at the hips and hooks his left foot around the man’s leg and pulls, forcing him to fall on his side rather than straight forward. The knife misses, and Steve rolls on top, blocking another stab faster than he knew he was able.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>This man is more competent than the others who came to the house, and there’s a sadistic glint in his eyes that’s making this so much more real. Steve reaches for his gun, but Rumlow grabs him by the wrist and pulls down, throwing him sideways with a hard knee in the ribs. They roll again, Steve breathless and seeing spots. A foot presses on his broken leg. Imbued with a cold, calculating rage he’s seldom felt, Steve slides his cane across his chest and shoves it upward with both hands into his opponent’s throat.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve initiates another roll, hoping to pin the other man to the ground by his neck with gravity on his side, but his opponent leans backward and hooks his arm under Steve’s, grabbing it and the cane to throw the programmer over his shoulder.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh, Thor’s done plenty of these moves on Steve, too, tossed him around so much that Steve is used to suddenly finding his body propelled in a different direction than intended. Usually that’s on training mats or sand, but he’s gotten so good at rolls that even doing so on the hard ground doesn’t hurt – broken ribs aside. But Steve ignores those, keeping his weight on his shoulder and turning to face his enemy as he rises on his knee, broken leg propped forward, cane raised to protect himself.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The agent seems surprised as his plans to disorient and pin his already-damaged adversary are upended, but he lunged back into the fight with vigor only increased, flipping the blade to a back-hand hold and thrusting himself forward.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve puts tension on the cane and </span>
  <span>lets</span>
  <span> go with one hand, flicking it up and into the man’s wrist to block the stab at his thigh. The fist he grabs in his other hand, turning against the natural wrist motion and pressing right where Thor has shown him. The fingers release the blade of their own accord. Steve lets go to hold the cane two-handed and increase the force of the blow as he spins it and smacks the agent in the jaw with the handle. Then he pushes up on his good leg and throws himself forward, pushing his body into the man’s bleeding shoulder. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grunting, the man gets a good grip on Steve’s jacket and redirects their topple, throwing Steve down the rest of the way. The impact strikes him on the most tender spot on his chest, and he yelps involuntarily. Making use of the opening he’s made </span>
  <span>himself,</span>
  <span> Rumlow grabs the jacket again and pulls Steve toward a punch. Steve slips out of his coat and drops onto his hip, leaning back on his hand and kicking up into the man’s stomach. The agent doubles over and drops the empty coat, falling back down as Steve kicks the leg from under him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They scramble, Steve flagging from breathlessness, and struggling to get his injured leg to do what he needs it to do. It’s not coping with the bare minimum, not able to help his other leg with much at all anymore. The agent swings a punch Steve barely manages to block, and scoops up his gun from the ground where he dropped it.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Knowing what’s behind him, Steve can suddenly move just fine. His cane is nearby and he grabs it, pushing himself up on his legs just high enough to block Thor with his own body. He spins the cane from under the aiming enemy arm as he guards Thor’s head with his body, the cane smacking into the outside of the agent’s wrist. The gun fires, but the trajectory has been moved inward, into Steve’s body instead of past him. Under the hem of his vest, into his body, but not into Thor. Not into his head.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s all that matters. “Don’t you touch him,” he snarls with more ferocity than he’s ever said anything, and changes the spin on the cane, pushing upward as he does so. The handle strikes under the agent’s chin, and Steve whips out his gloved hand, punching his opponent in the face as hard as he can.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve may not be an agent, may not be in optimal shape, but he’s strong, he’s big, and he’s angry. And he’s trained relentlessly for three-plus years. He knows how to throw a good punch. The agent goes down, and Steve shoves him backward with his cane.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s won.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Somehow.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve heaves, his body remembering how out-of-breath he is while his mind can think of only one thing – that's Thor, still sat right where he’s been the whole time, staring. “Steve...” He’s wide-eyed too, shocked and impressed and all kinds of other things. His eyes go to Steve’s leg as Steve stumbles closer, almost forgetting that he can use the cane for its intended purpose instead of a weapon. There’s concern in that gaze as well, eyes traveling from leg to waist.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you okay?” Steve asks, scooping up the knife and almost falling over in the process, leaning on the chair so he can slice away the tape on Thor’s wrists first.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” Thor confirms, peeling off the tape the moment his arms are free and reaching out to steady Steve as his boyfriend frees his legs. “Oh my god...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Steve agrees with a little smile. “Yeah, I know.” He rips off the last length of tape and starts to rise, throwing out his arm for balance and dropping the knife as the world tips.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor is on his feet the moment he’s free, propping himself under Steve’s body and pivoting them, lowering him into the chair and kneeling down. “You’re bleeding,” he remarks worriedly, reaching his fingers below the vest.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah...” Steve looks down, arm still wrapped around Thor’s neck. “Yeah, I am...” That’s not good. And it’s starting to hurt along with the rest of him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Thor says, loosening the straps of Steve’s vest so he can lift it up and inspect the wound.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We don’t have time-”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll make time,” Thor replies firmly, pushing Steve’s hands over the wound and looking up. “</span>
  <span>God</span>
  <span> I love you.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve pushes on his stomach as hard as he can manage, trying not to think about how wet his fingers are, or how much this should hurt. Oh, it hurts, but it hasn’t hit him yet. He smiles instead as Thor picks up the knife and cuts the sleeves off his thermal shirt.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re unbelievable,” Thor shakes his head, visibly trying not to show his deep concern as he folds his shirt sleeves into a compress.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I brought a horse to a gunfight,” Steve huffs a pained laugh and holds his vest and shirt out of the way, trying to lean back so Thor has a better look at the wound. It’s too bloody to make out what the opening actually looks like, but the bullet has gone into his side just above the hip, and it hasn’t come out. Less bleeding, he supposes. He does his best to restrain a whine as Thor pushes the cloth, hard.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, you did,” Thor smiles. “Pull your shirt down, hold that.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve obeys, holding the shirt over the compress and keeping up pressure. Thor stands only to grab the roll of </span>
  <span>duct tape</span>
  <span> off the tray, peeling back a few inches and pressing it in place. Steve sits up so it can be wrapped around and lifts his hands away, biting his lip.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It doesn’t look too bad,” Thor says, ripping the tape after three loops and throwing aside the roll. He reaches for the coat and helps Steve put it back on.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve believes him, wrapping his arm around his boyfriend’s neck as he’s literally lifted to his feet. He nods. This isn’t over yet. “Tony’s here too,” he huffs. “Getting the hostages. We can meet him and help.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” Thor agrees, more carrying Steve than helping him walk over to where the horse is patiently waiting. “I knew you would come.” He bends down once Steve is leaning on the horse and offers his cupped hands for a boost.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve smiles proudly and puts his left foot into Thor’s hands, pulling himself up with a groan of agony and strain while Thor helps. He drags his right leg over and sits slumped in the saddle, unsure if he prefers to hold his ribs or his waist.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I did not expect the horse, however,” Thor says, handing up the cane.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me neither,” Steve admits, tucking the cane under his arm. “They’ll come looking for us.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And they will find an empty room,” Thor agrees, taking all of Rumlow’s weapons before returning to take the horse’s reins.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve tries to sit straighter and hold his head higher, to ride that rush he knows is the only thing keeping him going. He’s still bleeding, even though the pressure is helping. He would rather not think about how quickly this whole ordeal needs to end before he stops being useful and starts being a burden. At least Thor doesn’t have to carry him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor pulls the door back open and guides the horse through first, leaning back in to fire a single shot. Darkly, he shuts the door and jogs toward the elevator, leading the horse alongside him. When the elevator doors slide open and two men rush out, Thor is too fast and shoots them both down.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve caught Rogers,” Tony says over the radio. “I’m bringing him to the loading bay.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Copy,” Steve says back, smiling down as Thor peers up curiously, jogging beside the horse. They step over the bodies and reverse into the elevator. “Tony got the hostages,” he explains.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The doors slide shut and Thor hesitates over the buttons, looking up. “Which floor?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Top,” Steve says.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey Steve?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That was extremely arousing.” Thor leans back to get a better view of the whole set-up.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Steve grins.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor nods earnestly. “I knew you would find a way. You saved me.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was my turn.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I suppose I should chastise you for doing something so dangerous,” Thor says as they rise floor by floor. “But I will do so half-heartedly.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lesson learned.” Steve’s smile is reinvigorated.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The elevator doors slide open, and the hallway is empty. Steve walks the horse out first before Thor can stop him and holds his cane at the ready. He’ll smack down as many agents as it takes to get out of here, and just because his boyfriend is here doesn't mean his part is over. Thor doesn’t have his bullet-proof vest, either. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Follow me,” Steve orders, leading down the corridor. Both of them stop and turn at the sound of footsteps from behind, Thor raising his gun, but when the stairwell doors open it’s just Tony and a group of thirty-odd people on his tail. “Tony.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>”Fancy</span>
  <span> meeting you here,” Tony grins. “Let’s go while HYDRA is busy in the loading bay.” He ushers the civilians through the door, and they don’t give the horse much of a second glance. At least they all look alright. Shaken, but unhurt. A few people are carrying the children.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What did you do?” Steve asks, leading the way again with Thor at his side ready to shoot anyone who comes between them and the exit.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, small electrical fire,” Tony says. “Rewired some systems while I was searching, turned a bunch of stuff on. Something is bound to explode soon. Oh, and I called Fury. He’s on his way with the cops.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were busy,” Steve remarks. “All I got was this guy.” He points at Thor.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nonsense,” Tony disagrees, taking the rear of their convoy. “You kept HYDRA busy.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Easier for a man to sneak around when there’s a horse galloping the hallways. Steve nods in agreement, looking across at the bodies he’s left behind. Most are still unconscious, exactly where they were left. Particularly the ones who got crushed beneath the horse. Thor gives him a raised eyebrow at the sight of the carnage, and Steve holds himself a bit straighter in the saddle. He’s not sure how much more strength he can muster, but he’ll damn well do his best. Some of the hostages are armed with stolen weapons, flanking the group. Cops, maybe, given how confident they seem to be holding a gun.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They move as one mass, Steve in the lead. When enemies finally appear in their way, it’s no longer a one-man fight. Steve charges first, scattering the men and knocking a couple of them down so they can be easily picked off by Thor and the armed hostages, keeping everyone else safe. The small group of enemies is easily brought down. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The radio is ablaze with frantic chatter, and the explosion is heard over the communication and through the rest of the building. When Steve looks back, Tony is grinning again. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The exit is in sight, the door they came in through just at the end of that hall. Steve stops and turns to guard the rear. “Get them out,” he orders Thor, and his boyfriend obeys. Who knows what awaits in the outside world. Steve sits in the saddle, ready to pick off anyone who comes by with his cane alone, with the gun as well if he has to. But maybe he won’t, because one of the hostages stands beside him with his gun raised. He’s scuffed and his wrists are still marked where the zip ties pressed into his skin, but he’s determined. The horse paws anxiously, flicking its tail.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A single enemy runs their way, which the hostage shoots down the moment he comes into view. He must be an officer, because he’s a good shot. Steve wonders if he should apologize now for stealing the horse, while he has the chance.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Clear!” Tony yells down the corridor, holding the door open. Steve lets the cop run ahead and keeps pace behind. Once </span>
  <span>again</span>
  <span> he has to turn in the saddle so the flanks of the horse and his legs can fit through the frame. They’re outside now, Thor ushering the hostages through the gap in the fence and out into the forest where they can hide until help gets here, while Tony waits by the door to lock it behind them.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The warehouse is on fire. Steve feels the glow on his back, looking around to see the whole loading bay aflame.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor is waiting, gazing up at him fondly. The fight is over, for now. Fury is coming, the police are coming, and HYDRA is busy putting out fires, however many of them are left. Steve shivers and grips the saddle for balance. The horse is walking over to Thor’s beckon, standing patiently while Thor helps Steve dismount. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>His </span>
  <span>whole body</span>
  <span> hurts, and he’s </span>
  <span>dizzy</span>
  <span>. Steve more slips than lowers himself down, straight into Thor’s arms. His legs feel suddenly very weak, liquefying beneath him. Steve lets out a long, shaky breath and grunt as the adrenaline rushes out of him. “Hey, hey, easy,” Thor murmurs, adjusting his grip, helping Steve limp through the fence while Tony leads the horse through after them.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Broken leg aside, Steve not sure he could stand up anyway. Thor is basically carrying him again, leading him hurriedly to a fallen log where they can sit. The hostages are gathered nearby in the tight cluster, the children in the middle, everyone caught between watching the fire and the couple.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve doesn’t care about the eyes on them, wrapping his arms tightly around his boyfriend. “I was so worried,” he whispers.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor hugs him back just as tightly, his bare arms glowing under the puff of flame that crawls toward the sky as another explosion blows a hole in the side of the loading bay. The fire won’t reach them here. “I was worried too,” Thor replies. “But I knew you would persevere. Even though I thought you would call for help instead...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We had limited options,” Steve chuckles into Thor’s neck. When he pulls back a little, he can see the bruise on Thor’s neck where he was obviously injected. “Are you sure you’re okay?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be fine,” Thor reassures, grasping Steve’s face. “It’s mostly out of my system.” He brings them together slowly, needily. “You saved me,” he rasps.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You said that,” Steve smiles, savoring the kiss and how grateful he is to have it when he feared he might never get to again.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It merits saying again.” Thor replies, slipping his hand down so he can unzip Steve’s coat and slip his bare arms under it. They share one last kiss before gathering themselves as close as they can, Steve trying to tuck his coat around Thor’s body to protect from the cold. Luckily, the forest is protecting them, and the heat from the fire is drifting their direction.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony has led both horses amidst the civilians and the animals have laid down in the snow, Steve’s clearly exhausted. The children are encouraged to approach, reaching out with shaking hands to give small strokes. They’re so young, about five of them and all between the ages of six and ten. Steve watches them somberly, hoping they don’t remember too much from this. It’s not fair that they should suffer, that any of these people should suffer for HYDRA’s revenge.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve sighs and shuts his eyes, adjusting his head on Thor’s shoulder. He’s exhausted himself, drained of all strength.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Baby?” Thor murmurs worriedly.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Still awake,” Steve confirms. “Just tired.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good, just checking.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Check as much as you like. Feels good when you talk.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor’s voice rumbles through his body and into Steve’s. “As you wish,” Thor agrees. “Perhaps I will take this opportunity to tell you more about how sexy that was.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess I’ll humor you,” Steve smiles, strangely comfortable. He can feel himself starting to shake, starting to succumb to shock – there's still a bullet in him. If he pays close attention to Thor’s </span>
  <span>voice</span>
  <span> he can fend it off a little longer. The embrace is helping him feel calm, and the swirl of smoke and flame in the sky is oddly soothing. With his deaf ear facing the carnage, he can’t head it as well as he should be able to, and the edges of the flames aren’t so sharp without his glasses. Until help arrives, he’ll be okay. In fact, he’s pretty sure he can see the dark shape of a helicopter moving across the stars, descending closer and closer. Help is coming. Steve sighs again and lets himself fully release any remaining tension in his body, breathing deeply and focusing on himself. He did all he can, and now he can rest.</span>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The hugging chapter.<br/>Also, I've been <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/stormyandrescuer">drawing</a>.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>
    
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s good to have Steve in his arms. Thor can feel that the shock is starting to take his boyfriend, but is reluctant to mention the bullet wound if he doesn’t have to. He does slip his hand down to add some pressure though, even though the tape is snug. Steve is caught between tense and limp, weak in the embrace but periodically seizing as a shiver courses through him, those shivers growing more and more frequent.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is he okay?” Tony asks, jogging over.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He got shot,” Thor says, rubbing his other hand soothingly up Steve’s back. “It’s not critical, but he’s bleeding.” And Steve doesn’t clot as well as most people, low platelets a lingering medical problem from his childhood. One of the few problems he never grew out of.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony shrugs out of his coat without question and wraps it around Steve’s shoulders, kneeling down to apply pressure so that Thor has both hands free to rub. He sure as fuck hopes it’s not critical. Thor’s not a doctor, so he can’t say for certain how serious the hit is, apart from his own experience. He can downplay it though, provide reassurance. It doesn’t matter how accurately he classifies the wound – it won’t bring help faster, but if he plays it calm it might help everyone else stay calm too.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The helicopter descends through the smoke and lands outside of the warehouse. Thor leans sideways so he can watch the door through a gap in the trees, relieved to see that it’s all familiar faces who are piling out. Everyone looks okay.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll let them know,” Tony says, pulling away and running around the group, slipping through the fence.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, time to go,” Thor says, wrapping his arm around Steve waist and pulling one of Steve’s around his neck. “Can you walk?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve nods and gets his legs under himself, limping heavily in the direction of the fence, one arm wrapped tightly over his side. One of the rescued hostages runs over to hold the fence for them so they can duck through. It’s hard going for Steve, who has reached his limit but gives what he can. Fury is climbing out of the driver’s seat, directing his agents to spread out around the building, then turning to Tony.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Loki has already left the helicopter, ducking under the slowly-spinning rotors and running over. He doesn’t say a word, propping himself under Steve’s other side to help him along.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fury is already back in the pilot’s seat by the time they reach the open doors and help Steve inside and sitting, the brothers flanking him protectively. Tony hops in just to give Steve’s shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll make sure everything is sorted out, okay?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Steve nods, pulling the second coat off and giving it back. “Thanks, Tony...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll talk later, pal. Just take it easy.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve gives a thumbs-up and a weary, grateful smile. Tony shuts the door behind them and runs back to help guide the agents to the hostages. The helicopter starts up again and lifts off the ground, up into the night, leaving room for the police to land instead.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everything will be looked after in their absence. Thor pulls Steve into his side and kisses his temple, while Loki sits stoically to Steve’s other side, not touching but alert and protective. His mere presence allows Thor to let his guard down and focus solely on Steve, to forget his surroundings once more and be all boyfriend, and no agent. Steve hardly needed him to be an agent today, even in a crisis. Steve had things mostly under control.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve rode his way into the belly of the beast and rode back out victorious. The sight of him riding into the room like a knight in pajama pants is one Thor hopes he never forgets, because it was one of the best things he’s ever seen. And Steve beat </span>
  <span>Rumlow</span>
  <span>, known back in his SHIELD days as one of the best agents. One of the most ruthless, too. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I told you Steve was smarter.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Smarts sometimes aren’t enough to win a fist-fight, or any type of fight, but Steve has quick-thinking and some training on his side too. Thor would be lying if he said he wasn’t proud of his prize pupil, though he doesn’t want to take too much credit for that outstanding win. After all, he was the hostage, the liability. And Steve managed to protect him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Took a bullet for him. Steve put himself between Thor and the gun, and took that bullet. Then he kept going until the job was done, a proud sight atop his horse.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>If Thor’s hands hadn’t been taped behind him, he’s not sure if he could have stopped himself from pulling that ring out and proposing the moment Steve burst into the room, yelling furiously and making rapid, life-saving decisions. Goddammit, that’s the hottest thing Thor’s ever seen. He only wishes he’d had the time to be aroused.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re here,” Fury announces, flying low over the city as he approaches the hospital and touching down as gently as he can on the landing pad. “I called ahead.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve is really flagging now, shaking vigorously and struggling to coordinate, even with help on either side. The pain is only growing more evident in his face as the adrenaline that allowed him to complete this mission leaves him alone with the harsh reality of what’s been done to him. Thor quickly reverses their tentative effort to stand and turns Steve in the seat, scooping him up. Scooping is a generous term, because Steve is heavy, but he can manage. It hurts old scars, but that hardly matters, and two people are already running across the landing pad with a stretcher. Real paramedics this time, with ID-photo-matching name tags and knowledgeable, prompt responses to prove it. The moment Steve is on his back, they’re pulling him back inside where it’s warm, asking questions.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Questions Thor needs to answer. He does so without really thinking, hardly paying attention, but he manages to give them the information they need as he rescues Steve’s boots and coat for safe-keeping.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be back to check in,” Fury promises, and leaves them with one last glance at Steve. They need him more on the mountain. Loki is here. Loki is all Thor needs.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s only a couple lengths of hallway before the stretcher goes beyond where Thor is allowed and he’s forced to let go of Steve’s hand. Their fingers trail apart, straining for just a second of contact more. He’s going to the OR, where Thor can’t go. He’s going to get surgery, and he’s going to be okay.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>One of the staff members comes to lead them away. “He’ll be okay,” she reassures, and it’s good to hear that from her. “He’ll be out of surgery before you know it. A few hours and he’ll be on the mend.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few hours is a long time to kill when your boyfriend has a bullet in him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should get looked over,” Loki says.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” Thor protests.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thor, for me. Just do it,” Loki orders.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” he acquiesces. “Okay.” He doesn’t like the idea of being inspected, but perhaps his brother is right, that he should at least have a blood test. And if it makes Loki feel better, he will. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A nurse brings him into a side-room to check him over, Loki waiting in the corner with an eye on his watch. Thor hardly notices the lab tech who takes his blood, too busy wondering if Steve’s okay.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course</span>
  <span> Steve is okay. They managed to slow the bleeding, and he was still conscious when he was taken away. Unless something catastrophic has happened, he should still be breathing on his own, and pleasantly anesthetized.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor is quickly given a clean bill of health. The nurse cleans his face where </span>
  <span>Rumlow’s</span>
  <span> punches split the skin, taping a couple of butterfly bandages over the cut. Then he’s free to go.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not even been an hour. Thor slides off the bed and puts on Steve’s coat – </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> coat, technically, since this is the </span>
  <span>one</span>
  <span> he gave to Steve.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on,” Loki beckons. “Something to drink, and eat. I’m sure you’re hungry.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not really...” Thor replies, but follows anyway. He does need to hydrate, and it’ll give him something to do.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We eradicated everyone,” Loki says quietly, leading his brother down to the cafeteria. “The moment Tony let us know the hostages were safe, we stopped our negotiations and opened fire. They’re gone.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Some will have remained overseas,” Thor replies solemnly. “There are probably still some men left.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We will weed them out,” Loki promises, ushering Thor through the line and paying, leading him to a table and pushing him into a chair. “Drink.” He cracks the top off a bottle of juice and pushes it over.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fluids are a good idea. Thor takes a big gulp, suddenly very thirsty, and hungry. He swallows with a sigh and trades the bottle for a sandwich. “Unless we uproot every last one of them, they will rebuild,” he reasons. A culling is not enough.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And we will,” Loki promises, stirring his coffee and taking a sip. He wrinkles his nose at the dark substance, but has another sip. His hands are trembling now that Thor has a good look at them.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor mutters something of an order to come closer as he puts down his sandwich, giving Loki the chance to put his drink down before pulling his brother into an embrace. It’s met without resistance or hesitation, Loki opening his arms welcomingly and squeezing back just as hard.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was worried about you,” Loki admits. “HYDRA told us they had you. They threatened to hurt you as well as the hostages if we didn’t comply. It was difficult dragging on the </span>
  <span>negotiations</span>
  <span> without endangering you.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor refrains from saying that HYDRA was waiting for Steve’s arrival instead, but it won’t be of any reassurance now. And Loki is showing his emotions clearly today, holding his brother with overt relief, swaying a little. </span>
  <span>So</span>
  <span> Thor savors it. “I did not mean to worry you,” he replies quietly. “I’m sorry. I was taken by surprise.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We weren’t prepared enough,” Loki agrees, still making no moves to pull away, to the point where Thor feels bold enough to raise his hand and hold the back of his little brother’s head. Loki does not recoil.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We owe our victory to Steve and Tony,” Thor smiles. “He rode in to find me on a horse.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A horse?” Loki remarks, and Thor can hear the frown of confusion in the tone.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Indeed,” Thor’s smile widens.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wondered how he had managed to get up the mountain.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should have seen him,” Thor sighs. “He was... majestic.” And many other words that Loki doesn’t need to hear.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They finally pull apart, and Loki is smiling. “I’ll make sure everyone has somewhere to stay,” he promises. “Somewhere safe.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Thor smiles back. “You’ve taken good care of us. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Both</span>
  </em>
  <span> of us.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s my job,” Loki straightens, smoothing down his shirt and picking up his coffee. His hands are steadier. “To look out for my idiot big brother.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And look out for me you have,” Thor chuckles, endeared. Over and over again, in so many ways, Loki has been there for him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Loki stays with him for a couple of hours in the cafeteria, eating and drinking among the morning staff who are filtering in. They have no idea how long Steve will be, how complicated his surgery will be nor if he’ll need anything else for his leg now that he’s walked on it – done </span>
  <em>
    <span>more </span>
  </em>
  <span>than walk. They go back up to the waiting area and sit side-by-side in their plastic chairs to wait, Thor setting Steve’s boots between his feet on the floor and clasping his fingers in his lap. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s another two hours before someone comes to get them and let them know that the surgery is over, the scans are finished, and Steve is being brought from recovery into a room as they speak. By now the others have arrived, Fury and the agents still at work helping to police with the hostages and clean-up, but Sarah and Bucky and Tony are here. They follow anxiously to the in-patient area.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not everyone can enter the room at once, and without any need to negotiate, Thor and Sarah are the first ones in. The nurse has just finished setting up the monitors, checking the IV drip one last time, promising the doctor is on her way to give them the information they need.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right now, it’s good enough to see Steve, more asleep than awake. He looks pale and tired, but alright. He’s on supplemental oxygen through a cannula, but there aren’t any other worrisome tubes. His leg is in a new cast. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor hangs back so that Sarah can approach first. She bends to kiss her son’s forehead, sliding her hand into his. He wraps his fingers around hers and tips his head on the pillow to look at her better, eyelids heavy as if moments away from falling asleep.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m so proud of you,” Sarah says, stroking his forehead. “You make your old mother worry, and if I weren’t so </span>
  <span>proud</span>
  <span> I would tell you off.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Later,” he slurs quietly.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Later,” she agrees. “When you aren’t high.” She smiles and leans over for another kiss. “I love you.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve mumbles something that has the beats of ‘I love you too’ as he shuts his eyes the rest of the way and heaves a deep sigh, settling off to sleep. He needs it, clearly. He’s been through an ordeal, </span>
  <span>physically</span>
  <span> and mentally.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The doctor is here, shutting the door to keep out the concerned faces trying to peer inside. She tries to give her printed orders to Sarah, but Sarah passes them straight off to Thor while she listens. Pleased, Thor folds up the orders and tucks them in his pants pocket, right over the ring.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both listen to the run-down, worries put to ease. If no complications develop in the next few days, then they can take Steve home – </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> take him home as soon as possible, so his weakened immune system won’t be so at risk here in the hospital. He’ll have to take it easy, get lots of rest, and will probably struggle to do much of anything until his stomach muscles heal, but with time he will get better. Time is mostly what he needs, and to stay off his feet. Thor is happy to lounge around in bed all day with his boyfriend, bring him things, look after him. There will be other people around to help too.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Broken bones have been aggravated, fractures stressed, but no surgery was necessary for ribs or leg. It’ll keep Steve off his feet for some extra time though.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>All-in-all, the diagnosis is good; bones will mend, ruptured organs will heal. It’ll be rough in the beginning, but they’ll face it together. Steve helped him without a single complaint when Thor was much more dependent. By now, they’ve been together for some time, are closer than they ever were. Thor won’t complain, but Steve might as he starts to recover and grows frustrated by his limitations. They’ll handle that, too. Thor knows how to deal with a begrudged Steve, and luckily, Steve has an adorable scowl.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The doctor leaves them in good spirits, and Sarah turns to Thor, offering him a relieved hug. She’s a stoic woman, and he’s honored that she’s chosen to release her stresses to him in this way.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He saved me,” Thor whispers, unable to hide the truth from her as he hugs her. “He took that bullet for me. They were going to shoot me, and he put himself in the way of it.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sarah draws back and holds his biceps, looking up at him. There is no anger, no disappointment, no scorn.  “I’m glad you’re alright,” she replies. “And I’m glad Steve’s alright too. I just wish it hadn’t come to that.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me too,” he agrees with a sorrowful smile. “If it makes you feel better, he was wearing a bullet-proof vest. A size too small though, I think.” Whoever Steve stole that from must have had a shorter torso.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sarah actually smiles. “Oh, Thor. I thought my boy had grown out of his trouble-making phase.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Trouble-making?” Thor laughs lightly. “I have only ever seen Steve end fights, not start them.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She chuckles too, a distant look passing over her eyes as she remembers years long gone. “You’re right. He’s like that, isn’t he. At least he has you to take care of him.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If only he weren’t so damn big and I could carry him,” Thor smiles fondly at Steve’s sleeping body. It looks smaller covered in blankets that are swallowing him, tubes and wires snaking out of him. Those few feet were difficult. A piggy-back or a fireman’s carry he could manage, but bridal is a struggle. Steve is heavier than he was three-and-a-half years ago.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Could you believe he used to be this big,” Sarah shakes her head and holds her hand by her hip, turning to look at her son too.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ever? No.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Well</span>
  <span> I didn’t give birth to him that size. And you made him into a beast. Look at him.” She gestures Steve’s muscular arms. “He was always my little string bean.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve shown me photos. I saw his shoulders.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Were we looking at the same kid?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Definitely. I would know those shoulders anywhere.” And eyes, and smile, and strong features. Even as a skinny child, Steve had defined features. Chiseled cheek-bones, promise of a strong jaw, symmetrical eyebrows. A thick bottom lip.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We should update the others,” Sarah </span>
  <span>suggests</span>
  <span>. “I’ll tell them.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sure? I can go. You stay.” He gestures the chair.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” she resists his guidance. “I’ll have lots of chances to fuss over him. I think he would rather most of the fussing come from you anyway.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sure-?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want you to stay,” Sarah orders, side-stepping him and pushing him toward the chair. “I’ll be back. Neither of you get up to any trouble until then.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Scout’s honor.” Thor sits. “I will wrestle him down if I must.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A medal-worthy feat,” Sarah praises, kissing the top of his head.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They bid their good-byes for the time being, and Thor is left alone in the room, warm light advancing toward the door as the sun rises. Thor frees his arms from the coat sleeves and wraps it around his shoulders, gathering Steve’s hand to his chest and resting his head on the mattress. He’s exhausted too. It’s been another long day, followed by a long night. They’re safe here.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve is high as a kite. Whatever they’ve given him, it’s more than he was on less than a week ago when he was last hospitalized. It’s immediately obvious that he’s still doped up when he comes round from his power nap that evening.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Thor was just starting to get worried, having slept almost as long himself only to wake and find that his boyfriend hadn’t stirred either. Steve is looking up at him now, his eyes not quite focusing on their target and his fingers fiddling aimlessly with a fold of blanket.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My Prince Charming is awake.” Thor leans on the railing with a fond smile. “My knight in shining armor.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve gives him a loopy smile and reaches up to bat at Thor’s hair. It was probably supposed to be a loving gesture, something slow and coordinated. He was probably trying to run his fingers through it, but ends up swiping at it like a tired cat. “Princess hair.” The joke was probably meant to come out a little different too.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A princess locked in a tower,” Thor agrees. “Waiting for a brave knight to rescue me. Which he did. On a noble steed and everything.” He takes the reaching hand and rests it on his cheek. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve is momentarily distracted by the texture of beard on his palm, rubbing it with his fingers as if he’s made a discovery. He looks content, unbothered by pain for the time being. “Can we go for a walk?” he asks.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe later,” Thor replies. “Rest first.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m tired,” Steve agrees easily, his hand falling away. “Why’m I so tired...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you got shot.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That would do it.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Be okay?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Thor reassures with a squeeze of the hand in his grasp. “You’ll be good as new soon, I promise.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s good,” Steve murmurs. “</span>
  <span>S’good</span>
  <span>.” He doesn’t seem all that bothered. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How do you feel?” Thor inquires. “Up for visitors?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve hums in agreement without giving it any serious thought, but he seems pleased by the idea. He’s not thinking straight, but Thor will keep his eye out just in case. And the others are smart – they'll know not to overwhelm Steve.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>There are lots of people eager to check in. Sarah has left it up to Thor to make the decisions, to give the front desk the go-ahead to let other people into the room. Even though it’s getting late, they stop by in small groups. Steve doesn’t have much to say, but he smiles along with the conversation and offers slurred thank-yous to the well-wishes he receives. Fury even brings him a card signed by their coworkers. He says it’s to see him off from the organization, but in reality it’s definitely a get-well card. Everyone they work with has written something inside it.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dinner arrives as the last cluster of friends are leaving. Steve already looks like he wants to go back to sleep, but he keeps his eyes open to eat. It’ll be liquids and puree for a few days, until his intestines heal. The nurse comes by half-way through a bowl of squash soup to check vitals and hang up a new drip.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stayin’?” Steve asks when Thor is finished feeding him pudding. He looks worried.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Of course</span>
  <span> I’m staying,” Thor reassures. “Couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Visiting hours?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck that. I’m your body guard,” Thor grins, pushing the empty table tray away. Once again, they’ve convinced the hospital to allow overnight visitors for the sake of safety. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re my guy,” Steve knowingly corrects.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nice try. But you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> guy.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh-uh.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh-</span>
  <em>
    <span>huh</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Fine, they’ll play this Steve’s way. Thor could take the win for himself with one simple gesture – the ring is in his pocket. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Will you be my guy?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He refuses to ask here though, and not while Steve is in this kind of shape.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh</span>
  <em>
    <span>-uh</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Steve protests, swiping out for a weak smack.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, you win,” Thor capitulates. “Go to sleep and dream about your victory.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Can you even remember what you were fighting for?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He leans out of the chair and kisses Steve on the lips. God, he’s cute half-asleep, his face smoothed of any tension.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>G’night</span>
  <span>,” Steve mumbles with a little contented smile, shutting his eyes and going back to sleep instantly.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor wishes he could climb into bed with his boyfriend, but not when the stitches are so fresh. Instead, he gets comfortable in the chair, staking his place once more. Steve is breathing deeply through his mouth, very much alive. It takes Thor a while before he can stop thinking about how lucky he is and how courageous Steve is, but eventually he’s too tired. It’s been a long few days.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’ll get better.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” Steve grumbles between gritted teeth as Thor helps him out of bed. “It just hurts, and I’m tired.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll be happier at home,” Thor replies calmly, guiding their movement. Steve is impatient when he’s frustrated, and is prone to push himself when he really needs to be taking it easy. Nobody will hold it against him for feeling this way, though. Even though it’s only been a few days, those days must feel like weeks.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” Steve grunts again. “I just want to go home.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>And by ‘home’ they both know that he means Australia. Thor wants to go home too. Routine is what they need, and some time alone. When Steve is in good shape for a long-haul flight, they’ll go. For now, Steve will have to be content in their temporary residence. As with the shake-up several years ago, they need to lay low together until everyone can find their new normal. The family will be under the same roof, able to take care of each other while Fury and his agents take care of business once more. This time though, they’re digging up the roots of the persistent HYDRA weed for good.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m with you on that,” Thor agrees patiently, easing Steve down into the wheelchair. “You will have to settle for simply leaving the hospital for now.” And it’s a proper, timely discharge this time, rather than a frantic and spontaneous one. No more IV painkillers, but more privacy. They can shut the door with no chance of staff or family walking in on them. When Steve’s grumpy, it’s a toss-up whether or not he’ll want to have sex, but if he decides he wants it, that’s certainly one way to improve his mood. Steve has every right to be grumpy, and he needs to get some of it out of his system, but Thor won’t let it fester. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once again, Loki has managed all the little details – clothes for both of them to wear, yet another replacement coat, and of course a vehicle to take them back to the house a few hours away. Steve sits in the front passenger seat so he can recline a little. Loki turns on the heat for him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time they get home it’s dinner time. They gather around the table as a family to eat what Sarah has prepared for them, and it has some semblance of normality. She’s made creamy potato soup with cheese and onion for everyone, something easy on the stomach while Steve is still easing out of his restricted diet. Steve is quiet, joining the conversation here and there when he has a point to add, but otherwise working through his meal. It must be a nice change to have something home-cooked, and Sarah makes good soup. Thor makes a mental note to ask her for the recipe, knowing that it would make an excellent rainy-day meal.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rest of the family gets up when the meal is over, helping to clear up and store away left-overs, providing the perfect opportunity for Steve to be wheeled to the bedroom without everyone watching. Whoever prepared the bedroom had the forethought to place a chair by the bed that can be used as a hand-rail, and Thor suspects Loki. He stops the wheelchair near it so Steve can use it to push himself to his feet and turn on his heel, sitting on it before shifting over to the bed. Pain is tighter in his posture and expression than it was this morning, but he makes it that far with minimal help.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor turns him around and lays him back on the pillows thoughtfully arranged into a comfortable stack, with enough left over for Thor, and a couple to tuck under Steve’s leg.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a few days deprived, it’s nice to have a bed once again large enough to comfortably accommodate both of them. Thor takes off his socks and shirt and gets under the covers, pulling them up over both of them and laying back with a sigh. The lights are still on, and it’s not even 8 pm, but wants a moment.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A hand finds its way into his. “Thor?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Thor looks over.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry I snapped at you... I didn’t mean to,” Steve says bashfully.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” Thor smiles back, rolling onto his side and sitting up for a punctuating kiss. “It’s been a long few days.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s only been four.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You got shot. You’re allowed to be grumpy.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why are you arguing on this?” Steve asks, but he’s starting to grin.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because I’m right.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Still doesn’t mean I get to bitch at you though.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You didn’t bitch at me.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I did.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm, I say you didn’t,” Thor contests, shuffling a bit closer so their bodies are pressed together, returning the smile with a sly smirk of his own.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then you’re an idiot.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then you’re misguided.” Thor raises his finger to press over Steve’s lips when his boyfriend parts them to speak. “Ah-a. That’s enough of that, my darling.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Babe-” Steve starts, muffled and trying to force a frown.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re lucky you’re so adorable when you’re grumpy, or I may not be so willing to forgive,” Thor goes on, dragging his finger down over Steve’s bottom lip. He rubs it back and forth, admiring the soft, pink skin. He slides his hand around Steve’s face to clasp him gently by the jaw and turn him into a kiss. “I love you,” he murmurs through it.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can we have sex?” Steve asks, quiet but raspy.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor straddles him on all fours and makes eye contact. “I thought perhaps I could pleasure you instead.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I could handle it,” Steve says. “Can we? Please? I’ll tell you if I need to stop, I promise.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It hasn’t even been two weeks since they last had sex, but it feels like ages, and Thor has to admit he wants it too. “If you’re sure you can handle it,” he agrees. “I will go easy on you, and we can adjust or stop as necessary.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Steve agrees eagerly, giving a victorious kiss.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor makes sure the door is fully closed and shuts off the light, turning on the bedside lamp instead. There’s lube in the top drawer of the nightstand, and Thor can imagine his brother placing it there with a grimace. It is a thoughtful addition, however. It’s no secret the two of them live a </span>
  <span>vigorous</span>
  <span>, plentiful sex life.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’ll have to play it safe today. Just plain, gentle sex, a little reminder that they’re survived yet another attempt to separate them. Just because it’s vanilla doesn’t mean it isn’t special or enjoyable. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We’ll just enjoy it all the more when we can get back to our usual routine.</span>
  </em>
  <span> What they get up to these days isn’t even that extravagant. Maybe they should try something new when they’re back on the beach with nobody to hear them.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>For now, they content themselves with the basics. Thor undresses them both and wraps a towel around Steve’s leg so the cast won’t rub his skin while they fuck. He takes his time, carefully maneuvering Steve's hips into his lap to provide ample time for Steve to express discomfort. So far, this is working. Thor slides in more gradually than he usually does, extracting the orgasm and providing the pleasure but reaching that place much more smoothly. Usually, Steve is arching and twisting under him, but he doesn’t move nearly as much now. His body is rested comfortably on the pillows rather than rolling off them. But he’s still enjoying himself, benefiting from the slower thrusts and the additional touches Thor applies to help coax out that orgasm.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor has craved this for many days, won’t stop reveling in how good it feels to worship his man. He gets to tell Steve how much he loves him without need for words. Now that they’ve known each other for so long, Thor knows how to stimulate more gently, with expert touches to Steve’s nipples, the crease of his thighs, his cock. Steve deserves not to hurt, to forget everything that’s just happened and not have to be drugged to do it. This is much more personal, and as funny as Steve was when he was high, Thor enjoys being directly involved in this method of relief.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve’s body is weakened, but he does surprisingly well, able to enjoy the experience for longer than Thor expected. Maybe he</span>
  <em>
    <span> should</span>
  </em>
  <span> have expected it.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve looks much better when they finish, sweaty and spent but content. He’s panting for a good reason this time, limp with the after-effects of orgasming several times. Thor cleans up and eagerly slides into bed, happy to be close instead of cramped in the chair. “And let that be a lesson to you,” he murmurs, dropping one last goodnight kiss onto Steve’s pink cheek before reaching over and shutting off the lamp.</span>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Steve isn’t even out of his wheelchair before they catch a flight to Australia. The family time was nice, to be able to regroup after a traumatic event, but the couple needs to return to normalcy for a while. With  the apartment in Toronto deemed unsafe, the only place they can retreat to is the beach.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not that it’s any sort of hardship. Thor reasons they’ll be better there anyway, since Steve can get some fresh air without having to layer up for the cold, dry Canadian winter weather. He can’t exactly fit his winter boots over his cast.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The flight is long, but they fly first-class and Steve takes an extra dose of pain-killers, plus some sleeping pills, and sleeps through most of the flight. When they land he’s groggy and sore, falling asleep again the moment he’s settled in the front seat of Loki’s car.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Loki flew ahead to check on the house to get it ready. At Thor’s request he’s bought a recliner to go in the sitting area. One of Steve’s biggest struggles is actually getting up. His ribs and abdominal muscles are still sore enough to hinder him, and the recliner might help. And it’ll prop up his leg, too.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>After many hours of traveling, Steve is grumpy again. He’s hurting, and his body won’t move the way he wants it to, so he needs Thor to help him more than usual. His teeth are pressed together and there’s a muscle twitching in his jaw as he gets out of the seat and back into his wheelchair. Inside the house, the bed is already made, surfaces dusted and a bowl of fresh fruit on the table. The recliner is already in the sitting area, the couch on one side and a lamp-stand on the other. It looks out the broad open windows to the sea and sky, just as they left it. The beach is clean and welcoming. Steve won’t be able to go swimming until the cast comes off, but it’ll be a great way to build the strength back up in his leg when it does. Thor has already had all the information sent to his doctor here, already had appointments scheduled.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>As much as Steve would probably prefer to look out the window at the scenery, he will be more comfortable in bed. Thor pushes him to the bedroom and flicks on the light. In a couple of weeks, everything from the apartment will be shipped here, including their minuscule sex toy collection. It’s something to look forward to, even if they might not be able to use everything right away.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve starts to get up on his own, leaning on the bed for balance, but he’s clearly in a lot of pain. Maybe they should have waited another week to fly here... </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Too late. Thor stops Steve short and picks him up, depositing him right on the bed with a grunt of effort. His boyfriend has lost some weight, but not </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> much.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Steve, painkillers,” Thor says, taking both bottles out of his pocket. “And antibiotics.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just need to sleep,” Steve grumbles, wrapping his arms around his chest and turning away.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You just woke up,” Thor reasons. “Take them. Please.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve doesn’t say anything else, quite content to sleep in his clothes, though granted he’s already wearing sweat pants. That position can’t be comfortable though.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sweetheart-”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A hand lands on his shoulder, pushing him aside. Loki appears with a glass of water and takes the pills out of Thor’s hand, walking straight up to the bed. “Steven, don’t be a meathead, and take your pills.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a moment of silence before Steve finally unfolds his arms and rolls over with a </span>
  <span>wince</span>
  <span> he does his best to restrain. He props himself up and takes the pills first, then the water as Loki hands it to him, standing over him watchfully. The whole dose goes down, and Steve hands the glass back to Loki, who sets it on the nightstand for later.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor is about to move in to tuck Steve in, prop up his leg, but Loki takes him by the arm and leads him out of the room, shutting off the light and resting the door closed. They don’t speak until they’re in the kitchen, illuminated by the cheerful midday sun.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Loki takes a plate of sandwiches from the fridge and peels off the cellophane, placing it on the counter and pushing it over. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks.” Thor takes one. He's amazed that Steve can go straight back to sleep without having anything to eat, because Thor is starving.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I took your car to the shop for an inspection,” Loki says, taking a sandwich for himself and realigning the bread. “It’s been checked over.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have business to conduct in the area,” Loki goes on. “So just call if you need me for anything. And I can stay as long as you like.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Loki can find business wherever he goes. Thor smiles. “I appreciate your help.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, well, what would you do without me,” his brother agrees with a lift of his chin.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s no arguing with that.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>While Steve rests in the dark and quiet on a real bed, the brothers make dinner. Loki will stay the night and leave tomorrow morning for his work duties. He seems concerned about Steve, hanging by the door while Thor goes in to check on him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Too deeply asleep to notice the movement, Steve doesn’t respond at all as Thor slides a pillow between his legs to keep the cast from rubbing, and tucks him in. It’s only when he reaches in to take a temperature that Steve frowns and mumbles in his sleep about being fine. An ingrained response rather than a legitimate one, Thor figures. But Steve does have a fever, however mild.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor drops a kiss on Steve’s temple and leaves him be, shutting the door behind him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Loki is at his shoulder. “Is he okay?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fever,” Thor says, leading away from the room and back to the kitchen when their combined-effort meal is cooking in the oven. “It’s unlikely to be an infection at this stage, and his breathing sounds fine.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Common cold,” Loki agrees knowingly, counting off on his fingers. “He was out in the snow, in the hospital twice, and sustained serious injury. Frankly I’m surprised he didn’t catch something sooner. There’s orange juice in the fridge.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nothing to be worried about, but it’s not going to improve Steve’s mood. Or maybe he’ll be so groggy that he’ll just want to sleep or cuddle until it clears up. It takes energy to be cranky.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve wakes up on his own before Thor has to try rousing him for dinner. The brothers </span>
  <span>pause</span>
  <span> their card game in the sitting room at the rustle of sheets and a few grunts of effort. Thor is about to get up, but Loki takes his arm and stops him. “Your turn,” Loki says, pointing at the deck.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door swings open, wheels rolling from carpet to laminate. Steve is fine; he’s managed to get out of bed and into the wheelchair on his own, pushing himself down the hall and toward the sitting area. His hair is sticking up all over the place and his face is flushed, the wrinkled sheets imprinted in his cheek and arm.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey guys,” he croaks, rubbing his eyes, then his nose.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was just about to see if you were hungry,” Thor smiles, shuffling over and beckoning Steve to his side. “I'll bring it over. You can play for me if you like.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Steve agrees, maneuvering himself into place and taking Thor’s hand of cards. Loki brings the coffee table between them and sets the deck onto it so Steve can reach.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor serves out three plates and deals himself back into the game. They eat roast beef and vegetables through another few rounds of cards while the sun sets. None of them are ready to go to bed yet, so Thor finds a movie and turns on the television. Loki distributes drinks and takes the recliner, while Thor sits on the couch with Steve in his lap, his boyfriend’s legs stretched out on the cushions.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they’ve finished </span>
  <em>
    <span>The World Is Not Enough,</span>
  </em>
  <span> all of them are tired enough for bed. Loki takes the spare room, and a drowsy Steve allows Thor to help him back into his wheelchair, and back to bed. Thor is ready for Steve to curl up on his own side, ready to give his boyfriend some space, but Steve opens his arms needily, demanding that he be held. They sleep in the middle of the bed, Steve breathing into Thor’s shoulder. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sinus congestion has rapidly set in, but his lungs sound clear. Pneumonia is a beast they’ve both done battle with, and would rather not again.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thirty-seven-point-six,” Thor declares, setting the thermometer on the table and putting the rest of the first-aid kit away.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s that in Fahrenheit again...?” Steve rubs his face, leaning his elbows on the table either side of his breakfast.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A fever,” Thor replies. “Why don’t we go outside? You’ll feel better for some fresh air.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This isn’t exactly an all-terrain vehicle,” Steve frowns, gesturing his wheelchair.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll walk. I’ll help you.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not supposed to walk.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A few feet won’t hurt,” Thor reasons. “Your appointment is in three days. You’re hardly going to destroy it so badly they have you keep the chair.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Steve sighs. “Okay, that’d be... nice.” He gazes out the window.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good. Finish your breakfast. I'll be right back.” Victorious, Thor goes to gather some towels.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He picks a spot on the beach where the slope is still steep enough that they’ll be propped up somewhat, able to look out across the ocean and the warm sky above while lying down. Thor sets up a couple of umbrellas to create enough shade to cover both of them, and brings sunscreen just in case. He fills a couple of bottles with water and juice, and lines their space with them. Then he goes back inside to fetch Steve.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve turns his chair away from the table and takes the hands offered to him, pulling to his feet and wrapping his arm around Thor’s neck. With a solid arm wrapped around Steve’s waist, Thor takes the weight and guides them across the landing to the front door one limping step at a time. Thor turns straight off the short stone pathway that leads to the door and onto the grass, but he stops when it starts to thin into sand. They both look down at Steve’s toes poking out of the cast, and the angle of his foot against the ground – the optimal angle to scoop sand straight into the cast with every step.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Change of plans. Thor gathers his strength and bends his legs, turning and picking Steve up under the knees in one smooth swoop, lifting with his legs. His knee pops, his back aches, and his shoulder protests, but it’s not far to walk down </span>
  <span>toward</span>
  <span> the shelter he’s built. Close enough that he knows he won’t jeopardize his own physical well-being. How is he supposed to take care of Steve if he ruins himself? That would be a foolish decision.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve hangs on without protest and carefully sets his feet on the towel once they arrive. It’s a long way to sit down with one leg that can’t bend, so he lets Thor lower him all the way.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor folds a spare towel and props it under the slight bend in Steve’s leg. “That wasn’t so bad,” he smiles.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t wait to get rid of this.” Steve is taking off his shirt, hands too busy to point at his leg, though he doesn’t have to.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is quite the clingy companion,” Thor agrees with a commiserating nod, popping the cap on the sunscreen. “One that has overstayed its welcome. It can’t take the hint.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’d think it’d get tired of third-wheeling.” Steve is smiling too when his shirt comes off. “The things it’s seen...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perhaps it enjoys the view,” Thor shrugs, swinging his leg over Steve’s hips and kneeling across him, squirting the cream into his hand. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> certainly do.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You hate sharing,” Steve grins. “We’re in the shade. I don’t need that.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Steven, you burn like a dried leaf in a pizza oven.” Thor rubs his hand across Steve’s white chest.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, but your shirt comes off too, and I get a turn.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“With pleasure,” Thor grins back. He gets to enjoy this first though. The swells of Steve’s body are still well-defined, covered in smooth milky skin that glows in the sun. The new scars only add to the landscape; the cut across his chest, the bullet scar above his hip that’s sealed but still healing. Thor bends down to kiss both scars before he covers them in sunscreen.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve squirms as bristled lips tickle his sensitive skin. “Hey!”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We should have sex out here sometime,” Thor suggests. “Under the stars, with the waves lapping?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’d have to be careful about the sand...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yes,” Thor agrees. That would rather ruin it. “We could spread out a blanket.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I like the sound of that,” Steve smiles with interest, clearly picturing it by his expression.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When this is off,” Thor promises, patting Steve casted thigh.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>That won’t be for another few weeks, probably about five, but maybe six. The fractures aren’t bad enough to warrant surgery, but they’re bad enough to require a little extra time. Time will fly by here on the beach, at least Thor hopes so for Steve’s sake. He can think of a few things that might help pass the time, or at least make sure it’s enjoyable.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor finishes with the cream, covering Steve’s leg and the toes on the other foot. Then he releases custody of the sunscreen tube and returns to Steve’s side, removing his own shirt and tying his hair back in a loose ponytail. “Your turn,” he offers his body. Fair’s fair.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve sits up and takes the tube, diligently rubbing the cream over every inch of Thor’s body. Chest, arms, back, neck, all over. “Close your eyes,” Steve orders, rubbing his fingers into Thor’s face and over his ears.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It feels good. He puts his legs in Steve’s lap so they can be lathered too, sliding up his shorts to encourage Steve put his hands up as high as he wants to. Steve reaches up far higher than necessary, tempting that they either give up and go back inside, or try that outdoor beach sex right now.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another time. Thor puts the sunscreen aside and hands Steve a bottle of juice.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you.” Steve opens it and has a long drink. He swallows and looks over. “I really missed it out here.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me too.” Thor leans over for a kiss.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve kisses him back, then he draws away. “You should go swim,” he suggests. “I know you want to.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fine here with you.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe I want to watch you,” Steve replies, giving him a playful shove. “Go. I’ll be fine.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you insist.” Thor pulls away and steps off the towels, out from the shade, and off toward the ocean. He curls his toes in the sand and turns, aware that Steve is watching him. He bursts into a run, tearing down the beach and straight into the water, diving under the surface and swimming until he runs out of air. Then he pops out of the water with a gasp and turns on his back, floating for a moment while he catches his breath.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sun is hot but the water is cool, lapping gently around him. Thor turns off his back and looks up the beach to where Steve is sitting propped on one arm, watching him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I need to pick up his replacement glasses and hearing aid,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he reminds himself, swimming closer so Steve can see him better. The delivery should be in soon. Paperwork might not be his strongest suit, but that was one job he couldn’t pass off to anyone else. It’s his responsibility, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Sarah trusted him to take care of these things.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor walks back up the beach and flops on the towels, careful not to get Steve’s cast wet. It’s not the most ideal normal, but they’ll make their unwelcome companion their normal until it’s gone. They lie together watching the clouds, talking about anything and everything. Thor rolls onto his belly so they make eye contact, laughing about their brief but enjoyable chapter of life in Toronto.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>When it’s time for lunch, Thor gets up to make smoothies and salads while Steve dozes and breathes in the cleansing ocean air. They sit up to eat, soaking in the warmth. Canada is a beautiful country, but it’s nice to be warm without having to wear a hundred layers, particularly for Steve. He looks comfortable, his left leg folded under his cast, leaning on one arm as he sips his smoothie, breathing through his congestion. The salty air has definitely cleared his sinuses somewhat, and his torso injuries no longer cause a wince at every movement. He certainly looks healthy, no longer such a mess of bruises. Healthy and happy.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They opt to go back inside for dinner so Steve can help. Thor carries him to the doorstep and helps him limp back to the wheelchair, then goes back to collect their stuff from the beach. There’s no way he’ll manage to carry Steve back and forth from the beach every day, but his hope is that in a couple of days the wheelchair will be exchanged for some crutches, and Steve can get around better on his own. Regardless, Thor will make a pathway of towels down to the beach if he has to.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they’re finished cooking and eating, Steve decides he wants a bath, and they both agree he’s okay to sit on the edge of the tub and clean himself with a towel wrapped around his leg. He does ask Thor to wash his hair for him though, so all the soap can be rinsed out. Thor showers after him and when he returns to bed, Steve is waiting for him, reading a book under the lamplight.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor drops his towel in the laundry and slides naked into bed. “Watcha reading?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“One the books we finished a while back,” Steve replies, showing him the cover.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here,” Thor wraps one arm around Steve’s shoulders and holds out his other hand. “I’ll read it to you again, if you like.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Steve slides closer and brushes Thor’s hair aside, laying his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “That’d be nice...” He surrenders the book and wraps his arm across Thor’s chest.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor wraps his arm around Steve’s back and drops his head on top of Steve’s, flipping back a few pages to start from the beginning.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The 4x4 runs like new. It’s a good thing Loki brought it to the shop, or it certainly wouldn’t have run after almost three years abandoned.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve has his new glasses and hearing-aid, finally able to look past the length of his arm without squinting. He’s watching the scenery pass by the window as they drive into town for the handful of appointments Steve will have to get through before he can hand in the wheelchair. Neither of them like tests much, particularly Steve, but he’s in a good mood so far. Maybe the anticipation of reclaiming some of his mobility is overpowering any reluctance to set foot in the hospital again.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Today’s list of tests contains nothing invasive. Only imaging, really: x-ray, and a few MRI scans. When everything is done, they go to the park to eat lunch and kill time before the doctor’s appointment to review the information. Steve gets out of the chair to sit beside Thor on the bench and watch a few pedestrians walk their dogs across the grass.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’ll be able to do that eventually, hold hands and take a walk. At least Steve isn’t in much pain anymore, his injuries more of a nuisance than anything else. He’s laughing freely at a comment Thor made, holding his ribs against whatever pain lingers. All that remains is a slight ache, at least as far as Steve has told him. A few years ago, Thor might have doubted Steve’s honesty about his physical health, but not anymore. And besides, Thor knows him so well that that particular lie wouldn’t fly. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally</span>
  <span> it’s time to drive to the clinic and see the doctor. Thor takes the wheelchair out of the 4x4 for what he hopes is the last time, unfolding it and giving it a salute. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“One last mission,” he says, hoping he won’t have to take those words back. He just wants to make Steve smile.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> smiling, mimicking the salute. He points at his cast. “You’re next.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>As usual, the clinic is quiet and they’re seen in promptly. The doctor remarks on how long it’s been since he’s seen them, comments on how well Thor looks, and then gets to business. To their relief, the chair goes. Steve’s leg is on-track for a full recovery, and the rest of his injuries look good too. The bullet wound is scarring like it should, and everything on the inside has healed up as well. Steve’s cold is clearing up by now, but the doctor listens to his lungs anyway just to be safe.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor sits proudly nearby, committing every piece of information to memory and asking questions where necessary. Strange how there’s so much more room in his brain for information when it’s about Steve’s wellbeing rather than his own.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve is allowed to put a little weight on his leg, and gradually apply more. He’s given a padded sandal for his cast so he doesn’t damage it or the floor, and they’re sent home. The moment they’re back in the 4x4 with the doors closed, they face each other with smiles and lean in for a victorious kiss.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>All-in-all, it’s been a good day. Thor leaves Steve in the car to do a quick grocery shop, and they drive home again. When he parks up, he walks around to the trunk for the groceries, keeping his eye on Steve as he does but staying out of the way. Steve doesn’t need any help, reaching for his crutches from the back seat and stepping carefully down to the gravel. Thor tosses him the house keys and Steve catches them, leaning on his crutches to open the door while Thor follows with a couple of bags in each hand.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve limps across the landing and into the sitting room, leaning his crutches on the lamp stand and sitting in the recliner. He pulls the lever to lean back and lift his legs, looking out at the ocean beyond. Thor smiles and turns away to unload the groceries and put some frozen chicken strips in the oven. He’s just finished putting the rest of the frozen foods in the freezer when Steve beckons him in a quiet, raspy voice.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Baby? Can you come here for a sec?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor shuts the freezer and abandons the rest of the groceries, jogging in bare feet across the laminate and over to the recliner. Steve is already levering himself forward again, and burying his face into Thor’s abs. Concerned, Thor bends down a little and reciprocates the tight hug. “Hey, what’s wrong?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It just hit me,” Steve croaks. “Everything that happened...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d had a suspicion that it would hit. Thor rubs Steve’s back. “It was quite the ordeal, wasn’t it.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Something I didn’t want either of us to have to go through again,” Steve sniffs, his voice cracking.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Something that we both got through, twice,” Thor adds, getting to his knees and adjusting the hug so he can rest Steve’s head on his shoulder.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I shot somebody,” Steve whispers. “I didn’t want to.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You didn’t kill him. And he would have killed me. He would have killed you, eventually.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>And not quickly, either.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “You did what was necessary, and you did so without killing him.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve shivers and tightens his grip. “They came to the house, Thor. When it was just me and Tony. They tried to take us.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” Thor replies softly. “Tony told me what happened. That you beat two of them on your own.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a small pause before Steve nods. “Yeah, I did... I think I killed one of them by accident... I knocked him over and he hit his head.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor has killed lots of people, but Steve hasn’t. Thor is at least as hardened against killing as anyone can be without losing their humanity, but Steve... Steve is by no means a lesser man because of it, quite the contrary. He’s brave and strong, but he would seek any way to avoid killing someone even if that someone was a HYDRA agent. And HYDRA agents are some of the cruelest people in the world. They care not for the wellbeing of others, only for profit and power to themselves. They even stooped so low as to scorn Thor for his relationship with Steve.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course</span>
  <span> Steve would feel guilt for what he did, accident or not, regardless of who fell victim. Thor rubs the back of Steve’s head gently. “You did everything you could.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wish it hadn’t come to that.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me too. But we all made it out, thanks to you and Tony. Your courage knows no match.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Smooth-talker, you,” Steve mumbles, reaching up to wipe his eyes. “I was so scared, Thor.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor squeezes. “Are you still scared now?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A little.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nobody will find us here. Fury is overseas with the other agents hunting down the last of HYDRA. He’s going to call me when they’ve gotten all of them. So </span>
  <span>far</span>
  <span> all the agents in Canada are accounted for, as well as the bounty hunters. And I brought my gun.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve sniffs again, twisting Thor’s shirt in his hand. “That’s good...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I should have updated you sooner, I apologize.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve shakes his head. “I know I’m safe here with you. It’s just... I can’t convince my whole brain, that’s all.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nobody would expect you to shake this off like nothing happened,” Thor returns rationally. “Baby, what happened was traumatic. If you need help, I’m here.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ok,” Steve replies in a small voice, but he sounds receptive of the proposal. “Maybe later...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whenever you’re ready,” Thor agrees, pushing Steve's head off his shoulder so he can reach in for a slow, tender forehead kiss. “I am very proud of you. For everything you did then, and for today.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t do anything today,” Steve replies quietly, looking up with wet eyes, his glasses smudged.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor plucks the glasses off and breathes on them, rubbing them clean on his shirt and sliding them back onto Steve’s face. “Darling, you came to me for help straight away.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess so...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And no matter what, I’ll still love you. Whatever you need.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve takes off his glasses so he can push his face back into Thor’s neck.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They sit there for a little while, until Steve relaxes in the embrace and his breathing evens back out. Whatever he needed to get out of his system he seems to have dealt with, at least for now. And Thor trusts that he’ll ask for help if he needs it.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dinner is almost ready,” Thor says with a glance at the oven timer. “I’ll make you a drink. Stay here.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a cool enough evening for a hot coffee. Thor puts the pot on and prepares two dinner plates while it fills up. Steve shuffles across to the sofa and they sit side-by-side to watch the ocean waves lap at the shore, a breeze blowing grey clouds over the sky. It’s a good evening to stay indoors, blowing away the sunny weather that lasted just long enough to brighten their journey into town.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>After dinner, Thor makes drinks, adding hot-chocolate powder and some liquor to the coffee. Steve always feels better after a hot coffee.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sleeps better if he has something to occupy his mind, too, so Thor takes out the book and starts to read once they’re cuddled in bed. He had half a mind to suggest sex, but Steve looks tired, so the book it is. This is nice, anyway, Steve under his arm and the two of them semi-propped up on the pillows beneath the glow of the lamp while rain smatters the roof. Even Thor’s old wounds don’t ache that much from the change of pressure.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he can tell that Steve is asleep, he closes the book and sets it by the lamp, turning his head to get a better view of Steve’s sleeping face. It’s one of his favorite sights in the world, Steve’s lips lightly parted, his expression relaxed, and his bangs flopped across his face. Thor steals one last kiss and shuts off the light.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span> It’s been a long five weeks, but finally the day comes for one last set of tests, at least they hope. They sit in the waiting room with anticipation, waiting for the doctor to come around the corner and reveal his decision. It’s only a few minutes, but it feels like ages, Steve playing with the fabric of his shorts, his crutches rested beside him.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The doctor appears, and gives his approval. The cast is coming off, for good this time.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve is brought into the room and told to lie down on the table, stretching out his leg so the orthopedic specialist can cut off the cast. His leg is white beneath, but the bruising is gone. Carefully, Steve turns around and lets his leg dangle, sliding on the other sandal when Thor gives it to him, then lowering himself to the floor. The doctor helps, but Steve is stable, and his leg holds him up. It’s going to take a week, maybe two for that limp to go away, but Steve won’t need his crutches anymore. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The doctor offers a cane, but Thor already has his at home. Steve can use that until he’s recovered fully. There’s still physio to come, but their third-wheeling companion is gone. That’s worth a celebration.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor helps Steve walk down to the 4x4, taking some weight while Steve gets used to walking again. It’s been roughly nine weeks since he broke his leg, and it’ll take some practice. Not much though – Steve is already doing well, besides the lingering limp.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How shall we celebrate?” Thor asks, climbing into the driver’s side and shutting the door behind him. He looks over with a grin. “A walk, perhaps? Down the beach?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want the sand in my toes,” Steve sighs with pleasure at the very idea as he pulls his seat forward. “And I want a shower.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Done and done,” Thor agrees, starting the engine. “How about a pizza first?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m starving,” Steve returns the grin.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cocktails?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a date. A party </span>
  <span>date</span>
  <span>. Thor picks up a few bottled drinks and a couple of hot pizzas to bring home, excited to his core. Oh, they’re going to have </span>
  <em>
    <span>amazing</span>
  </em>
  <span> sex tonight. It’s been amazing anyway, but without the cast in the way they can do so much more.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve looks happy to be free. No more hobbling down the beach trying not to fill his foot with sand. No more sitting on the edge of tub for baths. No more lying flat on his back for sex trying not to move his leg so he doesn’t hit Thor with it.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor runs to open the door and fetch the cane, bringing it back so that Steve can walk on his own. The muscles are stiff from disuse, but being able to walk a little on it before the cast came off has helped. It’s weak and sore, but it’ll get better. Most of all, it’s expected to fully heal. The doctor predicts a swift recovery.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They eat their pizza down on the beach, laying out towels to enjoy their celebratory dinner on. Thor sets the boxes between them and mixes a couple of drinks, passing one over. Steve rests his heels in the sand, rolling his ankle as he eats. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Massage,” Thor suggests. “Tonight.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’d feel good,” Steve nods with anticipation. “Oh god yes.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then sex?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Absolutely.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We should walk our food down then,” Thor suggests. “Let me put the left-overs away, and I’ll be right back.” He takes what’s left back into the house and runs back to the beach, offering his hands.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve takes them, only this time he’s able to hold Thor’s hand as they take up a slow pace down the beach. By now, the sun is starting to sun, casting a fiery glow across the ocean and through the clouds laced across the sky. They go slow for Steve, but Thor doesn’t mind, swinging their arms as they follow the shoreline.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look,” Steve declares, pointing up into the sky at the flock of birds swooping and ducking above the water several kilometers out. Every so often one or two will plunge under the water and emerge with a fish.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor only briefly glances at the birds, then he turns on his foot and gets to his knee, looking up at Steve’s face. Steve is staring out across the water, holding his hand to his forehead to shield his eyes from the glare, a soft smile on his lips and his hair billowing in a gentle breeze sweeping off the waves. He looks particularly tall and strong from this angle, a noble sight. Thor reaches into his pocket without taking his eyes away, his heart racing faster and faster as he waits patiently.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve finally turns back around and does a double-take, looking down. He opens his mouth, but Thor doesn’t give him the chance.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He opens the little box, and his mother’s ring shines like fire in the sun. “Will you marry me?” It’s a </span>
  <span>miracle</span>
  <span> the words come out at all, let alone in the right order.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve is staring at him, his mouth still stuck open, grip loosening on his cane so much that he drops it entirely. </span>
  <span>Finally</span>
  <span> he remembers to speak. “Yes,” he replies in an earnest, breathless voice. “Of course I will.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor launches himself back to his feet and wraps his arms around Steve’s chest, shutting the box so the ring doesn’t fall out as he hoists Steve off his feet and turns him in an excited circle. Then he sets Steve back on his feet and squeezes him tightly, his eyes welling up.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve leans back and takes his face to kiss him, rubbing away tears with his thumbs. “Baby, why are you crying?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because I’m happy,” Thor smiles. “</span>
  <span>So</span>
  <span> happy.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve is welling up too. “Yeah?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Thor replies, wiping up a couple more tears and reaching up to wipe away Steve’s too. “Stop crying, and let’s go have sex.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“God yes.” Steve scoops the cane back into his hand with his foot, and they both turn to make their way back toward the house.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I carry you over the threshold?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re not married yet.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A technicality.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you insist,” Steve agrees with a grin. “You’re the man of the house.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> the man of the house,” Thor corrects. “My Mr. Darcy. My horse-riding Prince Charming.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe I should carry you, then.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I would like to see you try.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Another day,” Steve laughs. “I don’t want to break something else.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, that would not be desirable. Thor picks Steve up and carries him across the grass and through the front door, setting him down in the bedroom. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get undressed,” he orders. “And put the cuffs on. I will only be a moment.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes sir,” Steve replies, throwing his cane off to the side and sitting on the bed to get undressed.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor backs out and shuts the door, running down to the beach to clear up the towels. He runs back into the house and shuts the door, already naked before he reaches the bedroom. When he opens the door, Steve is sprawled on the bed ready for him, cuffed wrists rested on the pillows by his head, ready to be fastened to the bed. Thor throws down his clothes and shuts the door, flicking off the light. Steve turns on the lamp, and Thor prowls up to the foot of the bed, crawling between Steve’s spread legs. He kneels across Steve’s hips so he can cuff him to the bed.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve lifts his hips into Thor, the muscles across his chest and arms flexing as he tests his restraints, makes the pretense of resistance.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thor licks his lips and plants his hand over Steve’s belly, enjoying the sensation of rippling muscle and excited breathing. His first order of business is to welcome Steve’s other leg back into the ring, so he scoops it up by the knee and kisses the soft skin up the inside of the thigh. It’s already been scrubbed clean of dead skin, but it’s still softer than the other from lack of exposure. Soft and extra sensitive. Thor holds it gently, but he does </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> hold back on kisses. There are some for the other leg too, so it doesn’t feel left out, all the way up to the thigh crease.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The moment Thor pulls Steve’s hips into his lap, Steve wraps both legs around Thor’s ribs and squeezes.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I missed this,” he says.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>So</span>
  <span> did I,” Thor agrees. </span>
  <span>Of course</span>
  <span> they’ve managed sex, and it’s been fulfilling, but it’s been different. Thor likes the tightness of Steve’s legs around his body. Steve has gorgeous legs, deceptively strong. Maybe the wrists restraints are enough. For now, at least. They’ve both made it out the other end of the ordeal, at least physically, and that’s cause for celebration.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>And they’re getting married. That’s worth celebrating too, even if there’s lots to do before it’s official.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>In a matter of minutes, Thor has Steve yelling. Routine is good sometimes. Routine works. He’s happy, Steve is happy, and they’re here together.</span>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Drawings added to chapters 1 &amp; 6! (1's a lil' spicy, jsyk).</p><p>I have never been to a wedding.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“One hand there, Steven. Thor, yours here. Lightly. Alright, music.” Sarah hits play and sets her phone on the sofa, stepping back to watch. </p><p>One step forward, one step back, and turn. It’s not so difficult; the only problem is that he and Steve have different ideas of which direction to move in. Steve is watching his feet intently, as if it will help. It isn’t. Thor is watching Steve, and that’s not helping either, distracted by how adorable Steve looks with his bottom lip held determinately in his teeth. </p><p>“Alright, stop,” Sarah interjects, pausing the up-beat music. “You’re both trying to lead. Steven, watch where you’re going.” </p><p>“I am,” he whines. </p><p>“No, you were watching where your <em> feet </em> were going.” </p><p>“Same thing.” </p><p>“It isn’t,” she silences him, brushing his hand off Thor’s shoulder, and Thor’s off Steve’s waist, taking both arms by the wrists and connecting their hands instead. “Okay. Let’s try this instead. Just... don’t think so hard about it, okay? And Thor, maybe think a little harder.” </p><p>Thor can’t help but blush a little, but Steve is blushing too, and much deeper, shuffling his feet nervously on the laminate. Now with both pairs of hands laced together, they stand ready for the signal. Sarah starts the music, and they try again. </p><p>Immediately, they both step forward. Steve tries to correct by yanking his leg back, losing his rhythm. Thor does his best to compensate, to move in time with the music so that Steve can recover easier, but his foot gets tangled up with Steve’s, and they pitch sideways. </p><p>Sarah shuts off the music and stands over them as they untangle themselves, an eyebrow raised. She reaches in to aid both men to their feet. “Alright. Steven, sit. We’ll try this one at a time.” Sarah Rogers has endless patience, but her Irish lilt certainly comes out when it’s being tried. </p><p>Bashfully, Steve sits on the sofa to watch, and Thor returns to the center of the room allowing Sarah to maneuver him. She starts the music and takes his hands in her much smaller ones, seizing control. </p><p>Thor gives it to her, following her lead. It’s a little easier to focus on learning the dance when it’s Steve’s mother in his arms instead of Steve, however somewhat more difficult to act natural. She’s no longer watching over him from the sidelines, but guiding him around the floor hand-in-hand isn’t any better. What kind of husband will he make if he can’t dance? Then again, Steve is equally hopeless. </p><p>“Loose in the hips,” Sarah orders, pulling his body as she moves, urging him to twist his torso back and forth. </p><p>Thor does his best to relax his spine and twist as she directs, making a conscious effort to let his muscles relax so he can move more smoothly. </p><p>“That’s better,” Sarah encourages, letting go of one hand so she can spin him under her arm. It’s a long way for him to duck, and she has to lift up on her toes. </p><p>Thor smiles and has his turn, spinning her under his arm and reclaiming her other hand. She hops backward in time with the music and leans away from him, encouraging him to follow suit. They pull together again and he copies her slowed footwork that lands on every second beat so he can follow. Then, she tries again, doubling the speed, and he matches. </p><p>“That’s it,” she smiles, spinning them in one last circle before letting go and turning off the song. “You’re getting the hang of this.” </p><p>Thor smiles proudly and gives her a courteous bow before stepping back to make room for Steve to take his place. A little practice and he should be able to perform passably. Sarah beckons her son and takes his hands, and Thor starts the music for them, sitting back to watch.  </p><p>Poor Steve is shaving too close to tripping over his own feet, struggling to match his mother’s easy rhythm. She quickly abandons footwork and simply steps from one side to the other in time with the music, swinging their arms lightly to encourage him to loosen up. Steve is usually very graceful and in control of his long limbs, but he’s lost his confidence. Maybe it’s because his mother is here, watching. Maybe it’s simply because he knows that this training is for the wedding, where other people will be there to see. That’s why <em> Thor </em> is nervous. </p><p>They’re going to be married in a week. Actually, they’ve already signed the paperwork as soon as they could, but the ceremony took a while longer to plan. Neither of them wanted to have it until Steve’s leg was completely healed. The cane is back in the closet where it belongs, physio is over, and Steve is in good health once more. His stamina is recovered, the last of his aches long faded, and the events that wounded him long enough passed that things feel normal again. </p><p>Normal-ish. They’re married now, and though it hasn’t changed anything about how they live, it has changed the flavor of their relationship. It’s sweeter, richer, warmer. Hot caramel drizzled over an already-delicious cake. </p><p>The ring is on Steve’s finger, and soon Thor will have a matching one. Loki insisted on handling that, as a wedding gift. As if the original ring wasn’t enough of a gift... </p><p>His chest tightens as he watches Sarah attempt to teach Steve how to at least step in time with the music. Thor hasn’t missed his mother this much in a long time. She’d have helped teach Steve to dance. Her calm, unshakable presence would be a welcome one. His father...? Well, he might have dampened the mood, but he wouldn’t have downright objected. </p><p>“Your turn again.” Sarah's hand lands on Thor’s shoulder and breaks him from his thoughts. She’s smiling invitingly. </p><p>Steve approaches, offering his hands and a welcoming smile. “Come on, baby.” </p><p>Now isn’t the time to dwell on things that can’t be changed. Thor takes the hands and gets up, squaring his shoulders and shaking out his legs, returning Steve’s smile with a confident one. There’s no greater comfort than Steve’s touch, Steve’s presence. It’ll take some effort, but if he can stop stargazing then he might manage this dance. </p><p>“You lead,” Steve invites, sliding up close. </p><p>“O-okay,” Thor agrees, shuffling his feet as the music starts before he’s ready. It takes a hop and a step to line up with the beat, strangely unsure of himself.  </p><p>With Steve at his side, he can do anything. Thor swallows and relaxes properly, drawing Steve into him. Dance is about confidence and poise and purpose, just like fighting. Thor manages to find his rhythm, his feet landing in time with the song. Steve struggles to follow, but Thor repeats the same steps until his husband is in line with him. It comes. Steve is a fast learner. </p><p>It’s not a performance, it’s about having fun together. Thor swirls them in a circle and spins Steve under his arm. It’s natural for Steve to rolls himself up in their arms, and Thor pulls him in, dipping him down and kissing him. </p><p>Just like that, the song is over, and Sarah is clapping. “I knew you’d get the hang of it,” she beams proudly. “Let’s take a lunch break, then I’ll teach you some more moves.” </p><p>That sounds like a good idea. </p><p>-- </p><p>It’s by no means a large wedding, but that’s the way they prefer it anyway. It’s more intimate this way. And everyone is invited. Steve wrote out the invitations with a patient hand. Nobody turned them down. </p><p>Steve is better at that sort of thing, the organizing and the planning, and it gave him something to do while he was healing. His mother has been here for a week now, to help with the last few details. She accompanied both of them separately into the town for outfit shopping, and she’s handling a large portion of the catering, particularly the cake. Sarah has a steady hand and a natural baking skill, crafting what Thor can only assume is a lovely cake – they aren’t allowed to see it yet. </p><p>“I think your mother is enjoying this more than we are,” Thor remarks as he helps Steve set up the tent on the beach. </p><p>Steve beams, looking back up to the house where the curtains are drawn, hiding Sarah who is finishing the last few cake decorations. People will be arriving soon.  </p><p>Luckily for them, the weather has complied. Thor ties down the last strap and takes Steve’s hand, turning to look out across the ocean. It’s a warm, sunny day, a few happy white clouds drifting across the sky. “Nature has blessed this union,” Thor proclaims, raising his other hand dramatically. </p><p>“You’re a dork,” Steve laughs up at him, then turns his gaze across the sea-scape, softening at the sight of it. “It really is perfect, isn’t it.” </p><p>“It would be perfect in the pouring rain.” </p><p>“It would be wet. And grey.” </p><p>“Then we would go inside,” Thor replies wisely. “And the greyness would only contrast and emphasize the brightness of our festivities.” </p><p>“I’m glad it’s sunny though. Makes for better photographs.” </p><p>“A sheet of rain would be quite full of character,” Thor contemplates. “Perhaps the sky would treat us to a lightning bolt of two.” </p><p>“Do you <em> want </em> a storm?” Steve grins. “Because if so, we can always postpone.” </p><p>“No, this is indeed perfect.” The sunshine is preferable, reflective of the mood. </p><p>Tires crunch on gravel, and they turn to spot a car pulling up to the house. Loki is of course first to arrive, dressed in a crisp shirt and a pair of plain yet somehow expensive-looking shorts, a bag in his hand. He pushes his sunglasses on top of his head as he steps under the shade of the tent, offering each of them a small, almost professional smile. It’s warmed by the handshake he extends, the slight accompanying nod of approval. </p><p>Thor grins and pulls the handshake into a hug, to which Loki responds with a tight hug of his own. He even allows a hug from Steve, appearing to lean into it even before Steve initiates the gesture. </p><p>“Steven. Brother,” Loki greets calmly. He reaches into his bag and pulls out a box. “The ring.” </p><p>Obediently, Steve slides his off and gives it over. </p><p>Loki opens the box and tucks the ring inside with its identical partner, closing the lid around both. “Good then. Where is Sarah?” </p><p>“In the kitchen,” Steve points to the house. </p><p>“Excellent,” Loki replies. “I brought her those Norwegian biscuits she asked for. Until later.” He backs up and turns, dropping his sunglasses over his eyes and walking up the beach and into the house. </p><p>Thor smiles. He’s very glad his brother is here, always such a pillar of composure. He turns toward Steve, taking his husband by the hand once more, and frowning as he does so. “You’re shaking.” </p><p>“I’m nervous,” Steve states. </p><p>“We’re already legally married.” </p><p>“I know... But that was just paperwork. The paperwork is... like you said. Legal.” </p><p>Thor squeezes the hand sympathetically. “I’m a little nervous too,” he confesses. Their union is already recognized in the eyes of the law, but they haven’t had a proper ceremony yet. The ceremony is frivolous, functionally purposeless, yet it symbolizes something to the world that a piece of paper can never convey. It’s about more than legal status. </p><p>And isn’t it worth a celebration? Especially after everything they’ve gone through? Love is worth a party, surely. Marital love, and the love they have with these people who have come to celebrate with them, who will cast their eyes upon the ceremony. </p><p>The eyes of friends on an unofficial ceremony holds more weight than the eyes of an officiator on the signing of paper. </p><p>It’s still mid-morning, but by noon they’ll be exchanging vows though they have no need to, exchanging rings though Steve already has his. Then they’ll be declared married, even though they already are.  </p><p>Noon is rapidly approaching. More guests are here, walking down the sand to help set up a few tables and some decorations, or into the house to help with the food. Tony and Bucky arrive with drinks and a radio and a camera, Bucky quickly slinging the camera strap around his neck and walking around taking pictures. Tony unfolds a table under the tent and starts some music. </p><p>Their co-workers aren’t far behind, dressed in casual beach wear. Even Fury is dressed in shorts and flip-flops. After the hard work everyone has put into digging up the last roots of HYDRA, they deserve the break. </p><p>Sarah brings down snacks for everyone to enjoy while the last details are being set up, then she and Loki lead the couple inside to get dressed. Sarah takes her son into the spare bedroom, and Loki takes his brother into the main one. </p><p>It’s almost noon. </p><p>Thor almost forgets what he’s in here for, and who knows how long he would have stood there like an idiot if Loki hadn’t prodded him. </p><p>“Thor.” His brother holds up the shirt. </p><p>“Oh, right.” Thor shakes himself from his stupor and pulls off his t-shirt, putting on the white collared shirt instead. He tucks it into his short and flips up the collar so Loki can tie a tie around his neck. </p><p>“At ease,” Loki says calmly, softly, sliding the knot to the top and folding down the collar. “Deep breaths, Thor. Or you’ll pass out.” </p><p>Thor straightens and does his best to breathe deeply as Loki straightens out his shirt for him. </p><p>“Don’t lock your knees.” </p><p>Thor bashfully allows them to bend, his confidence suddenly evaporated. He buttons up the vest when Loki gives it to him, and slips on the lighter blue dress jacket. Then he relaxes and allows his brother to smooth the wrinkles and manage the details. The white flower in the lapel, petals soft and perfect. Pure. Quite the contrast to the rest of him, covered in scars and tattoos. Marred by a past life he hopes to have left behind him for good. He’s ready for a clean slate, ready for a life of peace. Ready for this wedding he’s lucky to have. </p><p>Loki is reaching up to smooth down his hair, to comb it into submission with his fingers. He separates a piece at Thor’s temple and starts to braid it. </p><p>Their mother used to wear her hair like that, cascading over her shoulders and full of little braids. She used to put braids in Thor’s hair when he was young. He’d cut it not long after she’d died... </p><p>Thor blinks away his urge to cry and locks his eyes on Loki’s focused stare, his little brother meticulously ensuring that he looks perfect. Loki finishes with a second braid and leans back to inspect his work. He fidgets with a final couple of adjustments, sighing. “You look perfect, Thor.” </p><p>“Thank you,” Thor smiles. Heaven only knows he wouldn’t have been able to dress himself without the aid. And he owes the outfit choice to Sarah. </p><p>“Come on, I’m hungry," Loki breaks the silence starting to thicken between them, taking his brother by the hand to lead him out of the room. </p><p>Thor pauses to grasp Loki by the shoulders. “Loki. I’m getting married.” </p><p>Loki opens his mouth, as if to correct him on the technical incorrectness of the statement, but he shuts his mouth and starts again, smiling back. “Yes, you are.” </p><p>He shouldn’t be alive, but he is. </p><p>“Come on, you buffoon,” Loki orders, but his smile doesn’t fade as he takes his brother’s hand again and tugs him out of the house. </p><p>They walk outside, Thor resisting the urge to run down the sand to the raised wooden platform laid just beyond the reach of the lapping waves. Everyone is waiting, mingling under the tent, but they finish their last mouthfuls of food and gather in the sun before the platform. It’s decorated with an arch covered in those same white flowers. Thor puts on his flip-flops on the way down so he can stand on the wood without getting splinters on his feet, and hops onto the platform. It’s not very high, but he can’t be bothered to use the two very shallow steps, bursting with energy that needs somewhere to go. </p><p>Loki joins him, the unofficial officiator. It doesn’t matter if he isn’t ordained, because this whole thing is only for display. Besides, Loki is a very calming presence. </p><p>Now they have only to wait. Thor clasps his hands in front of him to stop himself from fidgeting, watching the door to the house with anticipation. They aren’t waiting long. Sarah appears with Steve on her arm, leading him down the beach and through the gap the crowd makes for them. Steve is dressed in matching blues, leaving his mother’s arm to step onto the platform. </p><p>Thor offers his hands and ignores the people watching, barely remembering to listen to Loki as he gazes upon Steve’s radiant smile. Steve takes the hands and holds them, his hair shining in the sunlight, his eyes reflecting the crackling combination of nervousness and excitement that Thor himself feels through his whole body. </p><p>It may just be an act to satisfy tradition, but Thor is happy to recite the vows as Loki calmly instructs him to. Some traditions have their place. This feels like what normal people do, and Thor wants to be normal. Somewhat, at least. </p><p>Next it’s Steve’s turn, and he follows along as directed, managing to sound composed despite the faint tremor in his fingers that only Thor is aware of. </p><p>Just like that, Loki is producing the rings, and they’re invited to kiss. Now <em> that </em> Thor needs no guidance for, drawing Steve toward him and kissing him firmly to the symphony of cheers and clapping. Steve kisses back, standing up on his toes and grasping Thor by the face, the ring cool on Thor’s cheek. Now they both have matching rings. </p><p>Somebody starts the music. Thor holds still just long enough for Bucky to finish his photographing, then he kicks off his flip-flops and jumps off the platform and into the sand. Without relinquishing their grip, Steve does the same. Imbued with giddiness, Thor hardly cares that they have an audience for their hastily-learned dancing. Sarah turns the music up, and the guests move out to leave them room for the first dance. </p><p>Steve looks nervous at first, but he quickly relinquishes his hesitance within the first spin through the sand. There’s minimal choreography, only the handful of moves Sarah taught them plus whatever they come up with in between. So long as their footwork is in time with the music, it doesn’t matter. </p><p>The sand makes for a good surface for energetic dancing, easy to pivot on. Steve’s face is open with joy, mouth locked in a smile and occasionally laughing when Thor twirls him. </p><p>The song could have lasted twice as long, and Thor wouldn’t have noticed. The music continues while Sarah leads them under the tent to the cake. It’s a magnificent creation, multi-tiered and covered in soft white frosting decorated with piped flowers. </p><p>“Together,” Sarah insists, handing them the knife handle-first. </p><p>Why not? It seems a shame to cut such a beautiful cake, but Bucky already has pictures, and it looks really, really good. They make the first slice together, but it’s much easier to cut with only one operator of the knife, so Thor takes it upon himself to make neat, even slices. Steve distributes them until everyone has a piece, then Thor cuts the last two pieces and slides them onto paper plates, eager to try what looks like a marvelous cake. Lunch can wait. </p><p>The first bite begs the question how many types of liquor Sarah put in this cake, but it’s <em> so </em> good. The frosting has a strong bite of brandy and a hint of peach, and the cake itself tastes of spiced rum and vanilla. Praise flow with abundance. </p><p>Cake-slicing and eating has given Clint time to set up the barbeque. What’s a beach wedding without a barbeque? By the time the first couple of people are finishing their cake, hamburgers are cooked and ready to be distributed. There’s no structure, no order, but that’s fine. It’s a party. Thor takes off his dress jacket and folds it up by the radio along with Steve’s. Then he rolls up his sleeves and joins hands with his beloved, hopping back down the sand for some lunch, preferably followed by a second helping of cake. Sarah has baked a cake of corporate size, and there shall be no shortage of helpings for everyone. </p><p>If people aren’t eating, they’re dancing. Sarah has dragged Loki away from the sidelines, coaxing him to dance with her. He’s trying to look disinterested, but he’s swaying along with the music, allowing her light grip on his hands. </p><p>Thor sits in the sand to eat his lunch, Steve at his shoulder, and they simply enjoy the view of their family enjoying themselves against a sunny backdrop. Fury is nudging Clint away from the grill, encouraging him to join the dancing. The sharp-shooter goes to relieve Bucky from his photography, pulling him off to dance. Bucky drops the camera around his neck as he’s yanked away from his task. Tony leaves the tent where he’s set up drinks and joins Natasha for a dance. </p><p>It seems so fantastical, two worlds so different colliding this harmoniously. Steve’s friends have assimilated well with the agents. Or maybe it’s the agents who have assimilated... Or were they always compatible, and the connection just... worked? It’s worked for a while, since Steve and Tony joined their team, but it’s never been quite like this, so integrated. Not even at Christmas. </p><p>They’ve truly made a family. </p><p>Steve reaches up to tuck his flower into Thor’s hair, smiling charmingly. And Thor doesn’t even get the chance to protest in good humor, because Sarah has come to claim her son for a dance. Leaving his empty plate behind, Steve takes her hands and gets to his feet, laughing as she pulls him away. </p><p>Thor doesn’t mind watching. He has a good view of the party from here, able to enjoy how much everyone <em> else </em> is enjoying themselves. Steve is pink with pleasure and a couple of drinks, fully relaxed as he dances easily in the sand with his mother. Sarah is laughing too, absorbed in the celebrations as she should be.  </p><p>“It’s your wedding. Why are you sitting?” Loki appears beside him, sitting in the sand. </p><p>“It’s my wedding,” Thor counters. “I can do what I want. Besides, I have a good view from here.” </p><p>“It is rather wonderful, isn’t it,” Loki agrees, looking out across it. </p><p>Thor sighs, and takes a few more moments to soak it in. The photos will capture this, but they will never be able to convey the complete scope of this radiating warmth. </p><p>“Come on, you owe me a dance.” Loki is on his feet again, holding out his hands. “Perhaps you won’t step on my toes. Or should I get my shoes?” </p><p>Thor smiles and takes his brother’s hands, rising up to accept. “Your toes will be fine, brother. Sarah has been teaching me.” </p><p>“A week is hardly enough to teach an oaf like you to move with some coordination,” Loki replies, but he’s smiling more cheerfully than Thor has seen in years. “Unless of course she is a miracle-worker.” </p><p>“Perhaps,” Thor grins back, pulling his little brother after him and spinning him briskly without warning. </p><p>Loki gasps with surprise, off-balanced, but he quickly recovers and composes himself, lifting his chin. Thor smiles slyly. Oh yes, this is just like the old days. Thor scruffs up his brother’s hair then grabs his hands so it can’t be fixed, shuffling his feet in the sand in time with the music. This dancing business is getting easier and easier. So long as he doesn’t think too hard about it, he finds it rather easy. And he has no intention of doing much thinking today. </p><p>In this moment, he and his brother are kids again, even in the absence of their greatly-missed mother. She would be proud. </p><p>Hours fly by, with no shortage of food to keep everyone satisfied. Eventually, Steve ends up back in his arms, and they dance some more. The party barely slows for dinner, by which time at least half the guests are pleasantly drunk. </p><p>Including Thor. Just a little. He hasn’t even had that much, but the atmosphere is getting to him. Steve is a little drunk too. Sarah can hold her liquor, but her son cannot. He’s been pacing himself, but he’s still a little giddy and loose-lipped, cackling at Tony’s jokes with a hand held to his chest, the other reaching out to steady himself. Thor leans his arm into the hand, grinning widely despite not understanding the computer joke that Tony has just told. Off to the side, Bucky snaps a photo before returning to his conversation around the barbeque with Clint and Natasha. </p><p>Someone has swapped the music to something a little slower and more conversational, but that does nothing to dampen spirits. Sometime around seven, when the sky is finally starting to darken, the music is swapped back over and dancing resumes. </p><p>At some point, Thor finds himself on his back, his head in Steve’s lap. Steve is stroking his hair, caught between gazing down at him and out at the ocean. It’s suddenly gotten dark, but there’s enough light strung up around the tent to illuminate the last partying they have left in them. Perhaps Thor could eat another sliver of cake, or dance to one more song, but he’s happy right here, Steve’s fingers combing through his hair. </p><p>“You know what else normal people do?” Thor says out of the blue, looking up into Steve’s face. “Honey-mooning.” </p><p>“I guess so,” Steve agrees, blinking back down curiously. “Where d’you wanna go?” </p><p>“Anywhere. Everywhere.” He can’t remember the name of a single country. “Never travelled much.” </p><p>“You said you’ve travelled lots,” Steve frowns, squinting as if that might help him remember the exact wording. </p><p>“For work,” Thor corrects with a lifted finger. “Didn’t get to sight-see.” <em> I was too busy killing people. </em> Fortunately, he’s not too drunk to stop himself from adding that. That is a mood-dampener most-foul, and there shall be no talk of that. </p><p>“Me too,” Steve agrees. “Apart from here.” </p><p>No, they haven’t travelled much at all. Not even within Canada while they were living there. “We should go somewhere then,” Thor states. </p><p>“I want to see the Eiffel tower,” Steve says. “That’d be nice.” </p><p>“I want to take you to Germany and drive you around the Nürburgring,” Thor replies. “We can rent a fast car.” </p><p>“That sounds fun,” Steve agrees. </p><p>“I’ll teach you how to do donuts.” </p><p>Steve grins. “Yes.” </p><p>It’s settled then. They can decide on a travel plan another day, when they aren’t drunk. Norway would be nice. It’s been a while since he’s visited his roots, and he should stop by his mother’s grave. He wants Steve to be with him when he does. </p><p>Eventually, the party must come to an end, but Thor has no idea what time it is when people slowly return to their cars to sleep, either too drunk or too tired to drive back to their various hotel rooms. Only so many people can fit in the house. Sarah and Natasha are going to share the spare room, and Loki is going to sleep on the couch. Not before the party is cleaned up though, at least everything that needs to be right this moment. Food is lazily stored in the fridge, but most of everything else is left for tomorrow morning. </p><p>Thor links his arm with Steve’s and they wander wearily back to the house, completely spent. So spent, that they’re barely undressed and wrapped in the covers before falling asleep. </p><p>-- </p><p>Norway is first on the list. Thor wants to visit his mother’s grave so they can enjoy the rest of their trip and end it on a positive note. Steve had no objections. </p><p>He’s right here, his arm wrapped around Thor’s waist in a gesture of comfort and support. Thor breaks away only to lay his carefully-selected bundle of flowers by the headstone, then retreats to Steve’s embrace. It’s been a long, long time since his mother died, but it feels a little fresher today. </p><p>Steve says nothing, drawing him into a hug and rubbing up and down his back. </p><p>“Thank you,” Thor murmurs into Steve’s coat collar. </p><p>“You needed to do it,” Steve replies gently. </p><p>“I think we should go.” </p><p>“If you’re ready.” </p><p>“I am.” Thor releases the hug, feeling a little better. He feels better still when Steve kisses him. </p><p>Their trip has just begun, and now he has his mother’s blessing. She’d have given it, he knows. He can feel it. Thor murmurs a Norse prayer and turns away, taking Steve’s hand and walking out of the cemetery.  </p><p>They walk back into town in silence, enjoying each other’s company and the view. It’s a little chilly, but they’re dressed warmly enough. </p><p>At the sight of a little tea shop, Thor remembers the hour. “Let’s have coffee,” he suggests, and Steve follows him inside. Now is a good time for a lunch break, a hot drink, and a reset before they continue into the second half of a day and begin sightseeing. </p><p>Thor sips his coffee and enjoys the crisp, clear landscape outside the window. When Steve reaches across the table, he takes the hand and laces their fingers. Poor decisions were made many years ago, decisions made out of grief and rage. Decisions than drove a wedge between himself and his brother. It ended in this, though, when it easily couldn’t have. Shouldn’t have, probably. Thor may never completely get over how he should be dead. The bullet in his chest was his warning, a taste of what he deserved before he was drawn back into the living world and given a second chance. </p><p>That second chance includes Steve, Loki, and the rest of their family. A larger family than he’s ever had. </p><p>It’s nice to take a long walk along the base of the mountains, something to start them off easy before they tackle some harder hiking trails. And Thor is feeling sore today, reminding him of old injuries. That’s alright. They’ve had a good day, and now they’re back in the rented hotel room overlooking the lake, and Steve is making him some more coffee. </p><p>“You okay?” Steve asks, leaving the machine to brew and walking over to the bed where Thor is sprawled. He sits on the edge and runs his hand up Thor’s leg, rubbing his fingers into the muscles. “You’ve been really quiet today.” </p><p>“Just thinking,” Thor smiles back, remaining limp even as Steve gathers his torso off the bed and holds him. He drops his head onto Steve’s shoulder. “I’ll feel better tomorrow, I promise.” </p><p>“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” Steve says, stroking Thor’s face. “And that if there’s anything I can do, I’ll do it. But you need time to grieve, if that’s how you feel.” </p><p>“I’m happy,” Thor promises. “I just needed today, that’s all.” </p><p>“If you’re sure.” Steve leans over and kisses his forehead. “How about a massage? You look sore.” </p><p>“What about you? This is your holiday too.” </p><p>“Thor, it’d make me happy to do that for you. That’s what we’re supposed to do, right? Take care of each other?” Steve scolds gently. </p><p>“I suppose so...” </p><p>“And you’ve been doing a lot of taking care of me lately.” </p><p>“That was my pleasure-” </p><p>“Exactly.” Steve presses a finger to Thor’s lips. “Shush. Take your clothes off, and I’ll be right back.” </p><p>Thors knows when it’s best not to argue. He smiles as Steve slips away to tend the coffee, and does as he’s told. It’s warm enough in the room that he’s not cold lying naked on the duvet. He pushes himself sitting on the pillows so he can drink his coffee, reaching up gratefully for it. </p><p>Steve takes off his shirt and leaves it in his open suitcase, rummaging among his supplies. He straightens and approaches with a tube in his hand, popping the lid and squirting some white cream into his hand. He goes straight in, lifting Thor’s leg by the thigh and rubbing the cream into his knee and around the old knife scar farther up. With strong fingers, Steve kneads the cream into the skin, then spreads what remains down Thor’s calf. It feels amazing. </p><p>“What <em> is </em> that?” Thor moans around the rim of his mug. </p><p>“Coulson recommended it to me, and I called our doctor to approve it,” Steve explains, leaving Thor’s leg to tingle pleasantly while he starts on the other. </p><p>“It feels amazing,” Thor sighs, slurping his coffee. By the time he’s finished the drink, Steve has thoroughly massaged both legs and is sitting across his hips to attack his shoulder. Thor puts the cup by the lamp and slides down the pillows so Steve can rub the cream into his damaged shoulder. All while Thor gets this wonderful view of Steve’s body.  </p><p>Thor finds his hand drifting up to touch the new scar on Steve’s belly, just above his hip bone. He rubs his fingers softly over it, admiring it, hating what inflicted it but loving the strength it represents.  </p><p>“Your back?” Steve offers, and when he receives a nod of approval, he helps Thor roll onto his stomach. </p><p>So many scars... Thor shivers with pleasure as Steve tends to the one in his back. Steve doesn’t restrict himself to the sore spots, generously extending the massage all the way down Thor’s back once the most important areas are tended to. </p><p>“What about you?” Thor offers as he rolls back over, holding out his hand for the bottle. </p><p>“I’m fine,” Steve smiles, tossing the bottle back into his open suitcase, then turning back and holding Thor to the pillows by the shoulders. “Maybe another time.” </p><p>There’s no denying that this is very nice. Thor slides his hand around Steve’s waist and draws him down for a kiss. As he pushes his tongue inside, he pushes the hem of Steve’s pants down over his hips. </p><p>“I didn’t think you’d want this today,” Steve murmurs, happily shaking off his pants and underwear. </p><p>“Why not? View’s nice.” </p><p>They both look out the window, where the dark of the midnight sky is lit up with dancing lights. Seems a good backdrop for sex. And when Steve rolls off to shut off the bedroom light, those northern lights flicker across the walls, across Steve’s naked form. Sexy. </p><p>“If you’re sure,” Steve says, hopping lightly back onto the bed and across Thor’s body, lube in one hand and the cuffs in the other. </p><p>“S’at for?” Thor asks, but he’s already laying his wrists by his head. </p><p>Steve shrugs. “If you want. But I thought we could do it this way for a change.” </p><p>It’s not often that they swap, that Thor is the one strapped to the bedposts. Sure, they switch who’s on the bottom plenty, and even when Steve’s tied down he’s not a placid recipient. Sometimes Thor fucks himself on Steve, and sometimes Steve just takes, cuffs or no cuffs. Thor certainly likes to have Steve at his mercy beneath him, likes to give without any interference, likes the way that Steve offers up his power so trustingly. But Thor also likes the way that Steve is sat across him, in control and offering to remain that way. Steve is capable of taking control when he needs to, when he wants to. <em> More than </em> capable. And he’s <em> good </em> at it. </p><p>“Have your way with me,” Thor invites with a ready smile, already excited. Steve knows him so well, knows that this is what he needs today, to just let go. </p><p>“Maybe I should have saved the cream for after,” Steve remarks with a smile that makes promises - ‘<em> I am going to wreck you </em>’. </p><p>Thor can’t wait, but he will, because Steve is a man of detail. Steve makes everything worth the wait, makes it about the journey. Steve dots ‘i’s and crosses ‘t’s, and he doesn’t miss a single one. He tends to the administrative duties with a calligraphy pen.  </p><p>Getting married isn’t for everyone, but it’s certainly working for them. The sex is somehow better, when he wasn't sure how that could be possible. There’s something deeply satisfying about the glint of metal in the corner of his eye, about looking over and seeing the ring on Steve’s finger, then turning his head to see its match on his own, and remembering. Thor wonders sometimes if he would have ever considered marriage, or wanted it so badly, had he not come so close to losing the chance to fall in love and live out the rest of his days with that person. </p><p>Steve is just as intent on staying, and it plays through the way he does up the cuffs and straps them to the bedposts. He never fastens Thor’s arms as far apart as they are on himself, to protect Thor’s shoulder from the strain. It’s very comfortable like this... No wonder Steve enjoys it so much. </p><p>“What do you want?” Steve asks, offering himself up with his posture, looking down over Thor with eagerness and a protectiveness that Thor hasn’t seen since Steve charged in to save him on horse-back. It’s not <em> quite </em> the same, because this time nobody’s threatening anybody with a gun, but that’s not a bad thing. This time there’s no danger to keep them from enjoying each other. This time, Thor gets to allow his arousal to fully blossom, and to cherish the full noble power of Steven Rogers. </p><p>Rogers-Blake, now. </p><p>“I want you in me,” Thor requests and demands all at once. “I want you to fuck me. Show me no mercy.” </p><p>“As you wish, Mr. Rogers.” Steve replies knowingly, slyly, taking off his glasses and hearing-aid before going anywhere near the lube. </p><p><em> Oh yes, I am yours. </em> Thor lies in wait expectantly, excited for what Steve will do with such free reign. By now, after so much time and so much practice, Steve knows the best places to touch and nip and suck, knows where to start to build the pressure. Steve works him like a computer, inputting commands to receive a precise response. But it’s more instinctual than that, more reciprocal. Thor may be the recipient, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to lie there and do nothing. No, he gives his feedback, gives Steve the pleasure of a yelp and a shiver (not that he could stop himself if he wanted to). </p><p>It’s a blessing that the walls are so thick, that the bed has steels posts perfect for the cuffs to be fastened to. Steve probably took all of that into account when he picked this hotel. He’s good at that, the details, the forward-thinking. The man with the plan. </p><p>Right now, Steve’s plan is to lay waste to him, and it’s going excellently. Thor ripples with pleasure as Steve pushes into him again and again like a well-timed engine piston.  </p><p>They go for a long time, longer than usual. Everything comes to its natural end, both of them satisfied, and Thor particularly breathless. He has no problem lying here while Steve looks after him, unties him and cleans him up, gives his shoulder a rub so it won’t be sore in the morning, then wraps him up in the blankets and lays beside him. They watch the sky from the bed, enjoying the colors and bright stars from the warmth of their bed. </p><p>This is going to be an excellent honey-moon. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well, I thank you very much to traveling another (slightly frivolous) journey with me :) I confess I didn't plan it out perhaps as much as I should have, but I had fun! Sometimes you just gotta go for it.<br/>Even so, I still appreciate constructive feedback! As always, all feedback is welcome &lt;3 it truly means a lot. I'm curious to know how you enjoyed this story and the previous installment compared to some of my other stories that were maybe slower or more plot-heavy.</p><p>Thanks for reading xx</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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